ivi]Bie.^ie"^ op^ 



O. O. OO^V^K^I^O^, 




Class, 



Book ,. 




EOBESPIERRE. 



MEMORABLE SCENES 



FKENCH HISTORY: 

FEOM 

THE ERA OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU 

TO 

THE PRESEN'T a?Il«IE. 

EMBBACINQ 

THE PROMINENT EVENTS OF THE LAST THREE CENTURIES, 

WITH 

INCIDENTS IN THE LIVES 

OF CARDINAL EICHELIETJ, LOUIS XV., LOUIS XVI., MARIA ANTOINETTE, 

LOUIS XVII., MIRABEAU, ROBESPIERRE, NAPOLEON I., MARIA 

LOUISA, NAPOLEON II., AND NAPOLEON III., ETC. 



vl' ■ 

SAMUEL M?^SCHMUCKER; 
H 

AUTHOR OF " COURT AND REIGN OP CATHARINE II.," " EMPEROR NICHOLAS 

I.," LITE OF "ALEXANDER HAMILTON," "ARCTIC EXPLORATIONS 

AND DISCOVERIES," ETC., ETC. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
PORTER & COATES. 



l-ii'-? 



5^- 



ifOl 



^ io 



ri 



PREFACE. 



The career of conquest, suffering, and glory which 
France has run in modern times is without a parallel in 
history. She may never have deserved, and she may 
not now deserve, the title and dignity of being the great- 
est of nations. Other communities may have been more 
powerful, more populous, more ojDulent, and more worthy 
of admiration and esteem, than she. They may have 
made greater discoveries in science ; they may have efiect- 
ed more important reforms in politics and religion ; they 
may have produced nobler achievements in the fine arts ; 
they may have given birth to bards who have sung in 
loftier strains of poetry, and to philosophers who have 
descended to profounder depths of speculation. But yet, 
if the career of France were blotted out from the history 
of our world, it would produce a greater chasm and a 
more sensible loss, than would be felt by the elimination 
of the records of any other nation. 

Hence it is, that the peculiar interest which French 
history possesses has led to the production of innumera- 
ble pubHcations on the subject ; yet it is probable that no 
class of descriptive works command the same degree of 
general interest as those which refer to French history. 
There is a superior charm connected with the events 
which have occurred in France during the last two cen- 
turies, which seems to be inexhaustible, to be ever fresh 



iv PREFACE. 

and new. The great French nation groaning under the 
tyranny of an ancient, ilhistrious, but pernicious dynasty ; 
struggling desperately for the possession of pohtieal hb- 
erty — a thing then unknown in Europe ; overwhelmed 
by the bloody surges of a mighty revolution ; then passing 
in the vaiu search for peace and security from one tran- 
sient form of government to another, till at length it lay 
unresistmgly beneath the giant grasp of the triumphant 
Corsican ; then crushed by a hostile continent in arms, 
and cast adrift again on the wide and stormy sea of politi- 
cal adventure ; and once more, after many strange vicis- 
situdes, resting as it now does, in stately and resplendent 
repose beneath the heir to the name and fortunes of the 
" Child of Destiny ; " — such are the imposing scenes pre- 
sented in modern times by the checkered history of France. 
In the followmg pages I have endeavored to describe 
some of these Memorable Scenes. I have avoided as 
much as possible the beaten track generally pursued by 
writers on these subjects ; and by exploring the recesses 
of old and musty tomes, not always accessible to the 
reader, to reproduce some scenes and narrate some events 
which have long been buried from general observation by 
the literary • rubbish which surrounded them. I have 
given prominence to such events and to such epochs in 
French history as seemed to me to possess the greatest 
interest and unportance ; yet as to the propriety of the 
sele(^.tions made, there must necessarily exist, among 
readers of different tastes, a great diversity of opinion. 

S. M. S. 



CONTENTS. 



INTEODTJCTION. 
BRIEF SURVEY OF FRENCH HISTORY. 

Pagb, 

Gaul vanquished by Julius Caesar, 13 

The Eeign of Clovls, U 

France divided at his Death, 14 

Else of the Carlovinian Dynasty, 15 

Charlemagne's Empire, 15 

Hugh Capet ascends the Throne, 16 

Louis the Ninth, 16 

Accession of Charles VII. 17 

Louis XI 17 

Francis I 17 

Henry IV. the first Bourbon Prince, IS 

CHAPTER I. 

FRANCE UNDER THE ADMINISTRATION OF RICHELIEU. 

State of France under Henry IV 19 

Influence of Richelieu's Administration, 20 

Birth of Richelieu, 21 

Mary De Medici, 21 

Death of Henry IV 22 

Mary de Medici becomes Queen Regent, 22 

First public appearance of Richelieu, 23 

His vigorous Administration, 25 

Duke of Buckingham, 27 

Siege of La Rochelle, 28 

Quarrel of Richelieu and Mary de Medici, 80 

Character of Mary De Medici, 81 

Sickness of Louis XIII S3 

Conspiracy Against Richelieu, 84 

Interview between Mary de Medici and Richelieu, 85 

Perplexityof the King, 87 

Richelieu triumphs over the Cabal, * . . 38 

Bassompierre's Imorisonment, 89 



VI CONTENTa 



Es-pnlsion of Mary de Medici from France 40 

Her Miserable Death, 42 

Duke of Orleans, 43 

The Filles de St. Marie, 46 

Birth of Louis XIV. 47 

Father Joseph's Death, , 49 

Cinq-Mars, 50 

His Conspiracy against Eichelieu, 51 

Marion De TOrme, 51 

Execution of Cinq-Mars, 53 

Death of Eichelieu, 54 

His peculiar Mental Qualities, ". 55 

His Dramatic Failures, S7 



CHAPTER II. 



MORALS AND MANNERS BEFORE THE REVOLUTION 

Louis XIV. .■ 60 

De Choiseul's Ministry, 61 

The Jesuits, 62 

Their Suppression in 1762, 63 

Court of Louis XV. ; 64 

Origin of Madame Pompadour, 65 

Her Influence and Arts, 66 

Her Vindictiveness, 67 

1 1 er Death, 68 

Origin of Madam Du Barry, 69 

Condition of Louis XV 70 

Luxury of Madam Du Barry, 71 

Death of Louis XV. 72 

The state of France, 73 

Morals in the Cluirch, 74 

Morals of the iS\ition, 75 

Birth of Louis XVI 77 

His Mental Qualities, • 78 

Youth of Louis XVI 79 

His Amusements, , 80 

His Eigorous Conduct, 81 

Marriage with Maria Antoinette 33 

Benevolence of Maria Antionette, 84 

The Count de Provence, 85 

The Count d'Artois 86 

I'he Duke de Chartres, 87 

His Excesses, 83 

<'onsequences to Louis XVI. 99 



CONTENTS. Vll 

CHAPTER III. 

OPENING SCENES OF THE FIRST REVOLUTION. 

Page. 

Miciitry of Turgot, 92 

Ministry of Neeker, 93 

Ministry of Calonne, , 94 

Louis Summons the States-General 95 

Eise of Modern Demagogues, 96 

The States-General Elected, 97 

Its First Assemblage, , 98 

The Procession to Notre Dame, 99 

The Opening Sermon, 100 

Demands of the Tiers Etat, 102 

The Title Adopted, 103 

Misplaced Decision of the King, 104 

The New Constitution, 105 

The Bastille, 106 

The Attack on the Bastille, 107 

The Garrison Capitulates, 108 

Eecall of Neeker, 110 

Acts Passed by the Assembly, Ill 

Bright Side of the Kevolution, 112 

Faults of the Queen, 113 

Joseph II. visits Paris, 114 

Orgies of the Trianon, 115 

Distinguished Impostors, 116 

Their Mysterious Tricks, 117 

Cardinal De Rohan, 118 

The Diamond Necklace, 119 

Adroitness of Lamoth, 120 

Effect of the Intrigue, 121 

Increasing Difficulties, 122 

Triumph of Mirabeau, 123 

CHAPTER lY. 

TERRIBLE POWER OF ROBESPIERRE AND THE JACOBINS. 

Else of Eobespierre, 126 

His Eesemblance to Demosthenes, 1-7 

The Emigrants and Priests, 129 

Decrees of the Assembly, 180 

Eise of Doumouriez, 131 

Insults offered to the Queen, 132 

Santerre and his Mob, 133 

Jacobin Pantomines, 134 

The Babble in the Palace, 135 



rill CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER V. 

LOUIS XVI. AT THE BAR OF THE NATIONAL CONVENTION. 

Paqk. 

Scene in the Ohainp de Mars, 137 

Proposal for the King's Escape, 138 

The King Declines it, 139 

The Gathering of the Storm, ,. 140 

The Marseillais, 141 

The Mob Approaches the Palace, 142 

Eesolution of the Queen, 143 

Louis Repairs to the Assembly, ,. 145 

The Destruction of the Palace, , 147 

Decree of Dethronement Passed, 148 

The Court Abolished, 149 

The New Government ,... 150 

The Royal Family in the Temple, 151 

Habits of the Royal Prisoners, 152 

Trial of Louis Proposed, 153 

Trial of Louis Decreed, 154 

The Royal Family Separated, 155 

Louis Appears before his Judges, 156 

His Arraignment, 158 

His Counsel, 159 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE DOWNNALL OF THE ANCIENT MONARCHY. 

Speech of Robespierre, 162 

The Decree of Guilty, 163 

Vote upon the King's Punishment, 164 

The Decree of Death, 166 

Louis Learns his F8,te, 167 

Their Intense Grief, 171 

Louis receives the Commimion, , 172 

CHAPTER Vn. 

DEATH OF THE ROYAL MARTYRS, LOUIS XVL AND XVIL 

Louis Ascends the Scaffold, ■ 174 

HisDeath, 175 

Will of Louis XVI 177 

Cliarges against the Queen, 179 

Death of Maria Antoinette, 180 

The Dauphin of France, 182 



CONTEiSTTS. IX 

PAGa 

Binion withdraws from the Temple, , 184 

Death of the Princess Elizabeth, , 185 

Horrid Condition of the Dauphin, 186 

Visit of Laurent, 187 

Death of the Dauphin, 190 

Mysterious Music, , 191 

CHAPTER Vin. 

THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE AND THE MOUNTAIN. 

Growth of Robespierre's Power, 193 

Awful State of France, 194 

Revolutionary Scenes, 195 

Madam Tallien, 197 

Conspiracy Against Ptobespierre, 198 

Speech of Tallien, 199' 

Robespierre Arrested, 200 

Terror in Paris, 202 

Robespierre Attempts Suicide, 203 

His Execution, 204 

Results of the Reign of Terror, 205 

State of France, .'. 206 

Establishment of the Directory, 208 

CHAPTER IX. 

NAPOLEON'S EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 

Napoleon's Brilliant Conceptions, 210 

The Descent on England 211 

Capture of Alexandria, 214 

The State of that City, 215 

The March in the Desert, 216 

The Nile, 217 

Battle of the Pyramids, 219 

Napoleon's Reign in Cairo, 220 

Battle of the Nile, 221 

Explosion of the L'Orient, 223 

Riotin Cairo, 224 

Invasion of Syria, 225 

Four Thousand Prisoners Shot, 226 

Siege of Acre, 227 

Defeat of Napoleon, 228 

His Return to France 229 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER X. 

MARIA LOUISA, AND THE COURT OF ST. JLOUD. 

Pasb. 

Napoleon's Series of Victories, 232 

Maria Louisa's Opinion of Napoleon, 233 

Napoleon's Divorce from Josephine, 234 

Josephine's Appearance, 285 

Midnight Scene in the Palace, 236 

Napoleon's Second Marriage, 287 

Novel Scheme of Berthier, 239 

Bierthier's Eeward, 241 

The Splendor of Napoleon's Court, . 242 

Its Heroes and Beauties, 244 

Its Artists and Savans, 245 

Birth oftheKingof Pvome, 248 

Madam De Montesquieu, 251 

Death oftheKingof Rome, 258 

CHAPTER XI. 

EXPEDITION OF NAPOLEON IN RUSSIA. 

Magnitude of the Enterprise, 255 

Splendid Scenes at Dresden, 256 

Passage of the Niemen ■. 227 

Napoleon at Vitepsk, 259 

His Painful Suspense, 260 

Napoleon at Smolensko, , . . 262 

Biege of Smolensko, 263 

Eetreat of the Eussians, 264 

Borodino, 266 

Commencement of the Battle, 267 

ThePury of the Conflict, 268 

The Great Central Eedoubt, 269 

The Victory of the French, 270 

Immense loss of the Victory, 271 

The Field of Battle, 272 

Eesolution to Burn Moscow, 273 

Napoleon's Entrance into Moscow, , 275 

Napoleon's First Night in Moscow, 277 

Moscow in Flames, 273 

Napoleon's EflForts to Negotiate, 289 

The Retreat Begins, 281 

Horrors of the Eetreat, 2S4 

Napoleon at Smolensko, 285 

Napoleon Deserts his Army, 283 

Results of the Expedition, 289 

Napoleon Eeaohes Paris, 290 

Napoleon at Elba -. 291 



CONTENTS. XI 
CHAPTER Xn. 

NAPOLEON DURING THE HUNDRED DAY,j. 

Page, 

The Congress of Vienna, . 293 

Napoleon and Madam Walewski, 294 

Madam Walewski, 295 

Napoleon Embarks for France, 296 

The March to Greifoble, 297 

Napoleon at Lyons, 299 

His Eeceptiou at the Tuilleries, 801 

First Proofs of Treachery, 302 

European Conspiracy against Napoleon, 303 

Sum Total of their Armies, 304 

Desperate Nature of the Conflict, 305 

Ilis Immense Activity, 307 

New Constitution Proclaimed, , 308 

Napoleon joins his Army, 811 

His Address to the Troops, .312 

The Combatants Approach each other, 313 

The Battle of Ligny 315 

Last Victory of Napoleon, , . 317 

The Battle of Quartre-Bras, 818 

The Battle of Waterloo, 320 

Desperate Heroism of the Combatants, 323 

The Charge of the Old Guard, 324 

The Imperial Guard Kecoil, 328 

Total Defeat of Napoleon, 327 

Napoleon Returns to Paris, 828 

Movements of the Allies, .... 830 

Napoleon at Malmaison, 331 

Return of Louis XVIIL to Paris, 832 

Final Disposal of Bonaparte, 833 

CHAPTER XIII. 

EXILE OF NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. 

Appearance of St. Helena, 834 

Situation of Longwood, 886 

Napoleon's Protest, 837 

Apprehensions of Europe's Monarchs, 838 

Napoleon's Feelings in Exile, 839 

Measures of Sir Hudson Lowe, 840 

Napoleon's Hatred of his Jailor, 842 

The Modern Mecca, 844 

Proposals of Escape, 845 



XI 1 CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Napoleon's Sickness, 846 

Napoleon's Will, , 847 

He Prepares for Death, 848 

He Receives Extreme Unction, 849 

He Becomes Delirious, 350 

Death of Napoleon, 351 

His Eemains Removed to France, , 853 

Return of Louis XVIII 853 

Louis Pbillipe, •. 854 

CHAPTER XIV. 

NAPOLEON III. EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH. 

Parentage of Napoleon III. . . , 856 

Napoleon III. at Arenemberg, 857 

He Conspires against Louis Phillipe, 3i8 

Afifair of Strasburg, . 859 

His Sojourn in New York, 860 

His Exile in England, 361 

The Prince Imprisoned at Ham, 363 

He Resolves to Escape, 864 

He is elected a Representative, 865 

He is Elected President, 866 

His Talents as a Ruler 867 

Causes of Coup d'Etat, 368 

Necessity of the Measure, 869 

Incidents of the Coup d'Etat, 370 

Necessary Loss of Life, 871 

Submission throughout France, 372 

Louis Napoleon's Confederates, 873 

Marshal St. Arnaud, 874 

Louis Napoleon as Emperor, 877 

The Imperial Marriage, . . 878 

Qualities of the Empress, ... 879 

Alliance between England and Prance, 880 

Birth of the Imperial Prince 881 

His Probable Destiny, 882 

The Peace of Europe, 883 

Louis Napoleon's Policy, 384 

Conclusion, 885 



MEMORABLE SCENES. 



, INTRODUCTION. 

A BRIEF SUEVBY OF FEBNCH HISTORY. 

The triumphant arms of Julius Caesar vanquished the 
inhabitants of the beautiful and fertile clime of ancient 
Gaul, about fifty years before the birth of Christ ; and 
with their subjugation to the Roman yoke they also ac- 
quired a degree of civilization and historical importance 
which they never before possessed, but which, from that 
remote period until the present, have continued to increase 
with the progress of ages. 

In the year 420 the Franks, a free and warlike race who 
dwelt in the vicinity of the Rhine and the "Weser, made 
an irruption into Gaul ; strove to subdue the stUl preva- 
lent power of Rome, and to wrest the scepter of the coun- 
try from her grasp. This first attempt proved unsuccess- 
ful; but in 451 the Franks finally conquered the inhabi- 
tants of Gaul, after defeating the formidable armies of 
Attila, the king of the Huns, at the bloody battle of Cha- 
lons. Meroveus, the leader of the victorious Franks, then 
estabUshed his capital on the spot now occupied by Paris. 
He fixed his power permanently in the land of the van- 
quished Gauls ; and he became the founder of an illustrious 
dynasty of princes, since known La history as that of the 
Meroviniai kings. 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

Uuder Clovis tlie Great, the power of Imperial Rome 
was entirely and permanently banished fi-om the Frank 
territory. He defeated the Roman general Syagriiis, in 
486, at the great battle of Soissons. That monarch also 
determined to enlarge his territory. His character was 
warhke and cruel; but he was not undeserving of the 
praise of a great conqueror. He subdued the inhabitants 
of Bretagne, the Alemanni on the Rhine, and the Visigoths 
who mhabited the fertile region which lay between the 
Pyrennees and the Garonne. Having been successftd in all 
his ambitious aims, he rested from the anxious toils of 
war, and became a christian, in accordance with the fashion 
of those times ; and in fulfillment of the vow which he had 
made, to worship the God of his wife Clotilda, if in the 
end he was victorious over aU his foes. He was baptized 
with great pomp and ceremony by St. Remi, at Rheims, 
in the year 496. He was there anointed with the miracu- 
lous oU, reputed to have been sent down from heaven 
by means of a dove. From the period of the conversion 
of Clovis the Great, France became numbered among the 
catalogue of christian nations. 

At the death of Clovis, his royal patrimony was divided 
between his four sons. Childebert, to whose share fell 
the kingdoms of Paris, Orleans and Soissons, is considered 
as the successor of Clovis. Clotaire H., an indolent and 
voluptuous prince, threw the whole bm^den of empire on 
the shoulders of his ministers. To these 3fccires du JPalais 
he intrusted absolute power. The consequence was that, 
after possessing the substance of authority during several 
generations, these officers ambitiously aimed, also, at the 
acquisition of its name and titles. They made themselvea 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

independent of the sovereign ; and seized the kingdoms of 
Austrasia, of Neustria, and of Burgundy. In these prov- 
inces they ruled with the title and prerogatives of inde- 
pendent kings. The most eminent of this line of usurpers 
was Pepin, His son Charles Martel, increased by his 
warlike exploits the power and celebrity of his race. His 
son Pepin Le JBref^ founded the illustrious Caiiovingian 
dynasty m 751. Under the reign of his successor, the 
peerless Charlemagne, the empire of the Franks attained 
its meridian splendor. He was a great conqueror, a wise 
legislator, and a revered saint. His empire, obtained 
partly by inheritance, partly by conquest, and partly by 
treaty, extended from the Ebro to the Elbe and the 
Danube ; ifromthe Iforthern sea to the Mediterranean and 
the Adriatic; including France, Germany, part of Spain, 
Hungary and Bohemia, some provinces of Dalmatia, and 
Italy, as far as the confines of Naples. Out of the dis- 
jointed wrecks of the falling empire of ancient Rome 
Charlemagne constructed a consoHdated cluster of do- 
minions, equal in magnitude and power to that possessed 
by Augustus himself. 

The vast monarchy of Charlemagne descended to his son, 
Louis le Debonnaire; but its unwieldy fabric fell to pieces, 
as soon as it passed into his feeble and trembling grasp. 
By the treaty of Verdun in 843, the crowns of France, 
Germany, and Italy were wisely separated from each other; 
and the youngest son of Louis, Charles the Bald, became 
the first monarch of the separate and independent king, 
dom of France. 

This second dynasty continued on the throne during a 
hundred years ; but this was an ignoble period of French 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

history, and its most important incidents consisted ia 
fierce and bitter struggles wMch took place between the 
kings, and their turbulent and refractory nobles. 

In 987 Hugh Capet ascended the throne, and became 
the founder of the third, or Capetian dynasty, which has 
in succeeding ages inherited the possession of an inse- 
cure crown. But the evils of the feudal system, which 
then existed in all their excess in France, distracted the 
nation for many generations with bloody and destructive 
wars. The power of some of these petty princes and 
feudal lords may be inferred from the fact that, in the 
twelfth century, one of them possessed the sovereignty 
of sixteen of the present departments of France. Anoth- 
er possessed that of seven, A third held six. The whole 
south of France belonged to a number of feudal lords ; 
and throughout the kingdom the audacious power and in- 
dependence which they arrayed against the supremacy 
of the sovereign, indicated that the authority of the lat- 
ter was held by a very insecure tenure. 

The influence of the feudal nobility was at length broken 
by the energetic measures adopted by Louis IX. The 
introduction of written laws and statutes by that mon- 
arch ; the use of letters of nobiUty by Philip 11. ; and the 
estabhshment of representatives of the people in a delib- 
erative assembly, by Philip lY,, all tended to diminish the 
supremacy of feudalism throughout the nation. 

In 1420 France was invaded by Henry V., king of Eng- 
land. He induced the imbecile Charles VI, to appoint 
him his heir, and to give him his daughter Catherine in 
marriage. But Charles himself survived the EngUsh as- 
pirant, and at his own death the ci'own descended to the 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

infant son of Henry V., to the exclusion of the dauphin, 
who had assumed the title of Charles VII. A bloody 
civil war was the result of this ambitious rivalry ; but 
victory was at length won to the standards of the dau- 
phm; the English were banished from the territory of 
France, except in the fortified cities of Calais and Guienne ; 
and the name and services of Joan of Arc were rendered 
immortal in the annals of heroism, patriotism, and virtue. 

After the accession of Charles VII,, all the institutions 
of France, and the measures of the government, tended 
toward the establishment of the regal power. He first 
among the monarchs of France, maintained a standing 
army. He adroitly increased, by purchase and by forfeit- 
ure, the extent of the crown lands, imtil they included a 
not inconsiderable portion of the French territory. He 
first undertook to impose taxes without the consent of 
the states-general, or the concurrence of the feudal lords. 

Under the stern scepter of Louis XI. despotism in 
France became more cruel and more absolute than it had 
ever been before. He became an eminent example of 
tyranny and deceit.* At the death of Charles VIII. the 
crown passed from the possession of the Valois branch of 
the house of Capet ; and by the accession of Louis XII. 
in 1498, the Orleans division of that illustrious family as- 
cended the throne. With Francis I., in 1515, the second 
house of the Valois Capetians resumed the sovereignty 
of France. During this period, one of the darkest in the 
annals of history, the nation was convulsed and scourged 
with endless wars, both political and rehgious. France 

* His favorite maxim was : Disshnuler c'est regner, 

2 



IS INTRODUCTIOK 

was deluged with human blood. The persecutions which 
the Protestants, or Huguenots, were compelled to endure, 
have forever stained the history of the nation, with inef- 
faceable infamy and disgrace. 

These cruelties at length culminated on the memorable 
and bloody eve of St. Bai'tholomew ; when thousands of 
the best and bravest citizens of France were massacred 
under the direction of Charles IX. and his sanguinary 
mother, Catherine de JNIedici. 

Henry IV. was the first Bourbon prince who ascended 
the throne of the Capets. His auspicious reign began in 
1589. He put an end to the religious wars which, for so 
many disastrous years, had desolated France. He pro- 
jlaimed the celebrated and beneficent edict of Nantes, 
tvhich guaranteed to the Protestants the full exercise and 
enjoyment of their rehgion. The period of his reign in- 
troduces us to that more memorable era in French history, 
when greater men and more absorbing incidents appear 
upon the scene ; and demand a more minute survey of 
the remarkable qualities which they exhibited, and of the 
important and permanent results which they produced. 



CHAPTER I. 

FEANCB UNDER THE ADMINTSTRATIOIir OF CARDINAL 
RICHELIEIJ. 

The illustrious name of Richelieu is intimately connect* 
ed with the power and glory of the French monarchy. 
Before his accession to his high place, France had been de- 
graded fi'om the honorable eminence which she occupied 
at the death of Henry IV., to poverty, imbecility, and con- 
tempt. The vast treasures which that monarch had ac- 
cumulated, and had left in his coffers at the period of his 
decease, had been lavishly squandered during the regency 
of his widow, Mary de Medici. The court and the nation 
had become impoverished. The fierce contests which 
raged between the princes of the royal family and the 
nobles ; the insatiable rapacity of the courtiers ; and the 
ambitious and jealous caprices of the queen-regent, had 
thrown France into a lamentable state of prostration and 
misery. The monarchy possessed no firm basis of power. 
Endless dissensions distracted the councils of the minis- 
ters, unprincipled aspirants after power and wealth crowd- 
ed all the avenues to the throne, and harassed those who 
held the feeble reins of government, with plots, intrigues, 
and cabals. The favorites of the court, and even nobles 
of high and honorable birth, exhibited the most grasi^ing 
and unblushing cupidity. They created new oflices and 
fi-anchises. They levied tolls on the public highways and 
on private edifices. They devised new taxes and imposts. 



20 INFLUENCE OF RICHELIEU'S ADMINISTRATION. 

All France, indeed, seemed to have been given up to pil- 
lage and plunder; while the multitude of the offenders 
appeared to secure the immunity of each. 

The strong mind of Richelieu discerned the intricate 
and inveterate nature of those evils. His powerful arm 
at length fell with a crushing blow on the tottering fabric 
of the feudal system in France, and swept it away. On the 
ruins of that system, and interwoven with the ascending 
and magnificent proportions of the structure of Mngly 
power which he reared, he also created the leading feat- 
ures and outlines of the gorgeous edifice of modern French 
civilization. In truth, his intellectual character was as 
great as his influence was powerftil. He was as inflexi- 
ble as he was sagacious. He was as persevering as 
he was daring. He w^s as vindictive and revenge- 
ful as he was ambitious. He was as unscrupulous and 
unprincipled as he was fertile in resources. He remained 
as undismayed in the midst of dangerous conspiracies and 
deadly plots against his life and power, as he was com- 
prehensive in his plans of conquest, and zealous for the 
aggrandizement of his own glory, and the glory of his king, 
which he cherished with a love second only to that which 
he entertained for himself. His remarkable career forms 
a great epoch in French history. It stands forth promi- 
nently, as one of the coUossal beacon-lights which remain 
towering and glittering through the gloom of the past ; 
and in the wide waste of by-gone ages, no period can be 
named which looms up with more solemn and impressive 
grandeur to our view, than his. It was he who made 
France the most important country in Europe, during the 
period of his ministry. He rendered the court of Louia 



BIRTH AND YOUTH OF RICHELIEU. 21 

XIII. the great focus of political power and interest 
throughout that continent. And when he died, he had 
prej)ared the way for the gorgeous reign of Louis XIV 
which succeeded; during which, the splendor of the 
French monarchy attained its unsurpassed, and even its 
unequaled, zenith. 

Akmaistd du Plessis Richelieu, was born of a noble 
family, at Paris, in 1585. At an early period his atten- 
tion was directed toward the army, but afterward to the 
church, as the most propitious theater of his future career. 
In pursuance of this latter expectation, he became a stu- 
dent of the Sorbonne, in 1607, where he comjileted the 
usual com'se of ecclesiastical study. He then entered the 
priesthood. During this early period of his life he was 
remarkable for his intelligence, his wit, and his gallantry. 
Neither his prudence nor his religious profession prevented 
him from indulging in licentious adventures, to the ex- 
cessive and shameful degree fashionable at that period, 
among aU classes in France. But these excesses did not 
prevent his rapid promotion in the church, for partly 
through the influence of his family, and partly through his 
own successful and skillful intrigues, he was consecrated 
bishop of Lugon, at the earUest period of his age permit- 
ted by the requirements of the canon law; and he thus 
took his place among the ecclesiastical, as weU as among 
the secular prmces of the realm. 

Henry IV. had married Mary de Medici, the daughter 
of Francis H., grand-duke of Tuscany. This princess was 
destined to experience the most singular and unparalleled 
extremes of fortune. She was possessed of great personal 
beauty, and strong talents for pohtical intrigue. But 



£2 DEATH OF HENRY IV. 

neither her beauty nor her talents conld bind to her the 
fickle heart of her husband. She became the mother of 
two princes, one of whom afterward ascended the throne 
mider the name of Louis XIII. Fearful of her aspiring 
nature, her husband had never allowed the ceremony of 
her coronation to take place. At length, however, during 
an interval of confidence and good feeling between them, 
Henry IV. consented to the celebration of that event. 
Accordingly, on the 13th of May, 1610, Mary de Medici 
was solemnly crowned queen of France; and on the 14th, 
Henry fell a victim to the dagger of the assassin Ravaillac! 
His death was very naturally attributed, by those best 
acquainted with the court secrets of that dismal and dan- 
gerous period, to the vindictive, ambitious and revenge- 
ful spii'it of the Itahan queen. 

This princess immediately became regent of France, 
and her power, despotic, whimsical, and pernicious as it 
was, continued undiminished during the minority of her 
son. The court and the administration were constantly 
spht up into desperate and dangerous factions, and France 
seemed rapidly to be approaching to the verge of ruin. 
The eyes of the queen-regent were at length opened to 
the perilous state of the kingdom ; and she ordered and 
proclauned the assembling of the states-general, for the 
purpose of aiding the sovereign in the correction and re- 
moval of the existing evils. This was the last time that 
this body was convoked in France, untU it was summoned 
to meet by the., unfortunate Louis XVI., amid the rolling 
of the thunder which presaged the approaching storms of 
the first great revolution. It was in this convocation of the 
states-general, thus summoned by Mary de Medici, that 



8 

FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE OF RICHELIEU. 23 

the illustrious Richelieu first appears upon the public po- 
litical stage of France. 

On this occasion Richelieu acted as speaker for the ec- 
clesiastical order. In the assembly, the three orders con- 
tended fiercely for their respective interests ; and their 
jealous conflicts rendered their deliberations utterly use- 
less to the state. The tiers etat contended, among other 
things, that a decree should be passed, to the effect that 
kings could in no case be deposed for heresy. They de- 
sired that the sovereign should be declared entirely free 
from the spiritual power. This proposition Richelieu op- 
posed with great eloquence and subtlety. At that period 
of his career, he was on terms of amity with Mary de 
Medici, who was a bigoted Catholic. She ruled her son, 
the dauphin. The priests ruled her. And RicheUeu, be- 
ing still identified with the ecclesiastical order, ruled the 
priests. Hence his interests dictated his policy on this, as 
on all other occasions. The dissensions, however, which 
divided the three orders, soon became so fierce that Mary 
de Medici dissolved their assemblage, before their delib- 
erations had produced any results, either favorable or un- 
favorable to her power. 

In 1616 Louis XIII. was married to the Spanish In- 
fanta. This princess is better known m history under the 
name of Anne of Austria. On the occurrence of this 
event, the old ministry of the regency, consisting of the 
president, Jeannon Villeroi, and the chancellor, Silleri, were 
dismissed. A new administration was formed in place of 
the harhons^ or dotards, who had been removed ; at the 
head of which was placed the prince de Conde. Into 
that ministry Richelieu was also admitted; and thus, 



24 RICHELIEU ADMITTED TO THE CABINET. 

for the first time, he came directly in contact with the 
machinery of state. Nor was it long before he made his 
powerful mind felt in the deliberations of the ministers, 
and in the measures adopted by the government. It was 
Conde's purpose to retain the supreme power by weaken- 
ing that of Mary de Medici with her son. A long and 
bitter conflict ensued ; durmg which Richelieu apparently 
took the part of the queen-mother. At first the influence 
of the latter was triumphant ; Conde was dismissed from 
his post and imprisoned in the Bastille. Concini, the 
Italian confidant and. favorite of the queen-mother, as- 
sumed his place and his power. But soon, with the va- 
cillation so usual in the history of ministers, and of gov- 
ernments, the tide of regal favor turned, Concini was de- 
graded and assassinated ; and the old ministry, with Yil- 
leroi at their head, returned to the possession of power. 
The queen-mother was then, for the first time, exiled 
from the court by the command of her son. She fixed her 
-residence at Blois ; and Richelieu, who had adopted the 
resolution to concihate both parties, and thus, at length, 
to rise upon the strength of both, accompanied her. His 
object was, that while he seemed to share with Mary de 
Medici in the ignominy of her banishment, he might act 
as a spy upon her movements, worm himself mto her coun- 
cils, and then betray them to the king. He found h favora- 
ble field for the execution of this purpose, in the restless 
and insatiable spirit of intrigue, which was the great char- 
acteristic, the bane, and the disgrace of Mary de Medici. 
It was the shrewd purpose of Richelieu, after hostilities 
between the royal combatants had reached a certain 
pomt, to step in as conciliator between them; render 



HIS VIGOROUS ADMINISTRATION. 25 

important services to both ; and be rewarded by tJtiem 
with the highest post of influence and honor in the state. 
The event fulfilled the expectations thus entertained by 
the crafty courtier. Mary de Medici escaped from Blois, 
through the agency of the duke d'Epernon, the governor 
of Metz ; and by hun and his attendants she was con- 
ducted to Angouleme. The king, Louis XIII,, on hear- 
ing of her escape from the place assigned her for her resi- 
dence, was at first disposed to take severe and vindictive 
measures. But Richeheu found means of suggesting gen- 
tler purposes to the royal son of so willful and determined 
a mother ; and as soon as it was resolved to take the lat- 
ter alternative, Richelieu ofiered his services as negotia- 
tor. The kmg ceded to Mary de Medici the government 
of Anjou ; and three cities were also given up to her as 
hostages for the future conduct of the king. Conde was 
restored to his former confidence and honor in the minis- 
try. The queen-mother returned to Paris, and was rec- 
onciled to her son. All the grounds of hostihty and jeal- 
ousy which had distracted the royal family for five years, 
were apparently buried in oblivion; and Richelieu re- 
ceived the reward of his exertions, in the confidence and 
esteem of both parties. It was after effecting this memo- 
rable reconciliation between the king and his mother, that 
Richeheu was elevated to the post of prime minister of 
France. It was then, also, that he received the promise 
of the cardinal's hat, which was soon obtained for him at 
Rome, through the joint influence and agency of the sov- 
ereign and his mother. 

At length, then, we behold the crafty, ambitious, and 
sagacious chixrchman, elevated to the dizzy and danger- 



26 



HIS ARROGANT MOTTO. 



ous eminence to which he had boldly aspired ; and from 
t.his moment commenced one of the most extraordinary 
administrations which has ever illustrated the history of 
nations. This event occurred ia the year 1624. During 
the space of eighteen years afterward, Richeheu continued 
to be the leading, the most imposing, and the central fig- 
ure in the history of Europe ; the arbiter of the fate of 
millions of men, and the absolute governor of the hearts 
and fortunes of mighty kings and princes. 

Previous to the elevation of Richelieu to the post of 
prime minister, Louis XIII. had governed France with a 
feeble and trembling hand. The secret deUberations of 
the royal councils were usually well known, almost before 
the termination of the sittings at which they had taken 
place. Richelieu at once sei^zed the reins of government 
with a firm and powerful grasp, and rendered himself, 
untH the day of his death, absolutely indispensable to his 
feeble master, whom he inspired with a sentiment of fear 
and respect, not unmingled with jealous, yet impotent 
hatred. So absolute did the crafty cardinal soon become, 
that it was with very considerable traththat, in speaking 
of the direction of the government, he declared that the 
proper form for him to use in reference to it, was Ego^ 
et Hex meus. 

Such successful ambition, it might readily be supposed, 
would soon raise around the minister indignant and pow- 
erful rivals, who would attempt by every possible means 
to diminish his influence, to precipitate him from his high 
eminence, and to compass his ruin. Not the least convinc- 
ing evidence of the consummate abilities of Richelieu, is 
to be found in the success with which he discovered, dis- 



DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 27 

comfited, crushed, and punished the most skillful combi- 
nations which were ever formed against him. At the 
head of one of the most dangerous of these, was Gaston, 
the duke of Orleans, and brother of the king. Durmg 
the visit of the duke of Buckingham to France, to nego- 
tiate a marriage between the future king of England, then 
prince of Wales, and Henrietta, the king's sister, the in- 
sufferable arrogance of the English embassador had of- 
fended and disgusted the French minister. A deadly 
hostihty between these able men was the consequence ; 
nor was that hostility diminished when Richelieu saw that 
Buckingham even dared to intrigue with Anne of Aus- 
tria, his master's queen, for whom he himself indulged an 
improper fondness. The object of the consj)iracy against 
Richeheu, which followed, was intended to dethrone 
Louis XIIL, to place his brother, the duke of Orleans, on 
the throne, to remove Richelieu from power, and to inflict 
retributive punishment on him and his adherents, for all 
the indignities which they had haughtily imposed on their 
rivals. Richelieu detected this conspiracy, and commu- 
nicated it to the kmg, and to the queen-mother. Imme- 
diately Colonel Ornam, one of the conspirators, the gov- 
ernor and confidant of the duke of Orleans, was arrested 
by the orders of the minister, and thrown into the Bas- 
tille. He languished there in the deepest and darkest dun- 
geon of that fortress until his death. Count Chalais, an- 
other of the consijirators, together with the count de 
Soissons, the duke de Vendome, his brother the grand 
prior Vendome, Barabas, the able Scaglia, his associates 
and confederates, each severely felt the dreadful effects 
of the triumphant vengeance of Richelieu. Even the 



28 SIEGE OF LA ROCHELLK 

duke of Orleans himself, who had proposed to marry the 
wife of Louis XIII., in the event of his deposition and 
death, was compelled to purchase his unmunity hy mar- 
rying Mademoiselle de Montpensier ; and by abandoning 
all his friends to his powerful and vindictive foe. At 
the instance of the latter, even the queen herself was 
summoned before the council and severely reprimanded 
by the sovereign, for the acquiescence which she was sup- 
posed to have given to the projects of the conspirators. 
Scores of noblemen of distinguished birth and powerful 
connections, were buried beneath the turrets of the Bas- 
tille, as the penalty for having been implicated in this first 
plot against the minister, and a guard of musketeers was 
thenceforth assigned him, for the future preservation of 
his personal security. 

The city and fortress of La Rochelle had long been the 
strong-hold of Protestant or Huguenot discontent in 
France. It had successfully resisted, either by force of 
arms or by bribery, every attempt which had been made 
by the predecessors of Louis XIII. to capture it. Rich- 
elieu resolved to accomplish what ha,d surpassed the abili- 
ties of kings and ministers before him. The princess de 
Rohan, a person eminent for her high birth, her heroism, 
and her devotion to the Protestant cause, commanded the 
city and its defenders. Richelieu sent a numerous army, 
under the orders of Marshal Schomberg, to besiege the 
works. The duke of Buckingham, who, after his return 
to England, never forgot nor forgave the indignities which 
were inflicted on him by the cardinal during his late so- 
journ in France, prepared to assist the RocheUois with an 
English fleet. The latter were themselves extremely de- 



ITS CAPTURE. 29 

termined and enthusiastic in theii* resistance to the at- 
tacks of the army of the king of France. They chose a 
new burgess at this crisis, and when he was inducted into 
office, he presented a poniard to the magistrates and said i 
"I accept the office of burgess, only on condition that 
this poinard shall be plunged into the heart of the first 
traitor who shall dare to speak of surrender ; and against 
myself, if I ever propose capitulation ! " 

Richelieu but laughed at the vaunting fortitude of the 
heroes of RocheUe. He built a gigantic mole into the 
sea, fourteen hundred feet in length, which effectually pre- 
vented the approach of the besieging ships, and of the suc- 
cors from England. Louis XIII. sojourned in person in 
the French camp ; and just as the duke of Buckingham 
was about to embark on the last squadron of the fleet 
which left England, he was assassinated by an emmissary 
of the carduial, named Felton, an EngUshman. At length, 
after one of the most memorable sieges on record, which 
continued with fluctuating fortunes during a whole year, 
RocheUe capitulated. The city was stripped of all its 
privileges ; the works were manned with the victorious 
troops of the king ; and the triumph of the cardinal in 
this uncertain and difficult enterprise, was absolute and 
complete. His exultation and the growth of his power 
were in proportion augmented. 

Previous to this period in the history of this remarka- 
ble man, he had uniformly acted on the sagacious princi- 
ple of courting the good will of Mary de Medici, the 
queen-mother. His sagacity had readily taught him that 
his master, the king, possessing by nature a soft and pli- 
ant disposition, would, until he arrived at a certain age, 



30 RICHELIEU AND MARY DE MEDICI. 

remain in a great measure subject to the influence of hia 
mother. Therefore, until Louis XIII. arrived at that age, 
Richelieu flattered and courted his mother, and through 
her, he ruled her son the more absolutely. But after the 
king had reached the period of which we now speak, the 
maternal influence over him became weakened, and he 
was taught by the crafty cardinal that he was at length 
old enough to throw ofi" those leading-strings which once 
had controlled him, and to think and act for himself. The 
object of the prelate in giving this advice, was to dimin- 
ish the number of his own royal masters, and servants ; 
so that, instead of being compelled to serve and govern 
two, he might only serve and govern one. This was the 
origin of that most remarkable and mahgnant conflict, 
which about the year 1628, began between Kicheheu and 
Mary de Medici, a conflict which lasted during the remain- 
der of their lives with unabated intensity ; which involved 
the royal family in constant broils and disgraceful tem- 
pests ; which finally drove the unfortunate queen-mother 
from home and country ; which imbittered her days with 
the keenest sufiering and mortification ; and which at last 
compelled her to die in a foreign country, in sohtude, pov- 
erty, and misery, such as finds no parallel in the chequered 
page of human vicissitude. 

Mary de Medici was a remarkable woman ; and one 
every way diflicult to govern or control. Partly from 
long habit, and partly from her natural disposition, she 
felt an irresistible temptation to interfere in affairs of 
state, and to influence her son, the king. During the mi- 
nority of the latter, she exercised that influence over him 
by right, as queen-regent. After the majority of the 



CHARACTER OF MARY DE MEDICI. 31 

king, she claimed to exercise the same supremacy by 
courtesy, as queen-mother. In either case, her assump- 
tions would have been repugnant to the insatiable ambi- 
tion of Richeheu ; and hence arose the deadly and life- 
long struggle between them. Nor had Richelieu an easy 
task to perform in crushing the spirit, and destroying the 
influence of Mary. She was a woman of warm and often 
generous impulses. She possessed great resolution of jxir- 
pose, and determination of will. She was fi'ee from the 
vices of hypocrisy and deceit. She neither possessed, nor 
pretended to the possession of, any skill in the subtle arts 
of deception and diplomacy ; and it is certainly very high 
praise for her that, though she was a woman of warm 
temperament, though she was a native of ardent Italy, 
and though she Hved in the most licentious and dissolute 
court in Em*ope, no breath of scandal has ever dared to 
impeach her stainless virtue. She was also constant in 
her friendships. But on the contrary, the character of 
Mary de Medici was tarnished by many great and glaring 
blemishes. She was so obstinate that reason rarely efiect- 
ed any change ia her first-formed purposes. She was via- 
dictive and revengeful in the extreme. She could not 
endure either reproof or opposition, with the least show 
of seemly grace ; and when her rivals or opponents had 
once incurred her hatred, she rarely or never forgave. 
Hence her whole life, after the rise of the stern and unre- 
lenting Richeheu to power, was one continual scene of 
mortification, of indignant conflict, and of impotent re- 
sistance to his supremacy. And while her quahties were 
admirably adapted to call forth the hostile powers of the 
cardinal, they were also such as to lay her open to his in- 



32 MARRIAGE OF GASTON. 

sidious and wily nature, and to give him every advan- 
tage over her movements, and over her destiny. 

The first notorious outburst of passion and jealousy be- 
tween these celebrated rivals, was ui reference to the sec- 
ond marriage of Gaston, the duke of Orleans, the brother 
of Louis XIII. This marriage had become a matter of 
great importance, inasmuch as Anne of Austria, the wife 
of the king, had for many years remained chUdless, and 
because the health of Louis XIII. was precarious. In 
case of his death without issue, Gaston would ascend the 
vacant throne. The duke of Mantua desired that his 
daughter should become the future queen. But Mary de 
Medici had entered with all the unconquerable ardor and 
resolution of her nature, into the project of obtaining for 
her son an alliance with one of her own relatives, Anne 
de Medici. The duke of Orleans really felt an attach- 
ment for the daughter of the duke of Mantua. The in- 
triguing mind of Richelieu could not, of course, remain 
idle during the progress of this important rivalry. The 
duke of Orleans ajDplied for advice to the king. The king 
appUed for counsel to Richelieu. And Richelieu, to pre- 
vent the further growth of the power and influence of 
Mary de Medici, advised the knag to permit his brother 
to marry the princess of Mantua. Meanwhile, the queen- 
mother expressed her hostile and contemptuous feeUngs 
toward the protege of the cardinal, in the most pubHo 
an insulting manner ; and the consequence was, the ex- 
istence of the most bitter and implacable enmity between 
all the parties concerned in the conflict. And it was ap- 
parent that, to whomsoever the unlucky duke would 
eventually be married, a deadly hatred would be enter 



SICKNESS OF LOUIS XIIJ. 33 

tained by the disappointed faction toward the successful 
aspirant, and toward all those who had contributed to her 
triumph. 

During the hostilities carried on in 1630, by Louis XIII. 
agamst the duke of Savoy, the king remamed with his 
army in the field, attended by the cardinal. Peace being 
concluded — the terms of which being greatly in favor of 
France — the king and cardinal resumed their journey to- 
ward Paris, in August of that year. At Lyons the kmg 
became ill, and serious apprehensions were entertained 
that his end approached. The wife and mother of the 
kmg were also present with him ; and while the apparent 
danger of the monarch continued, they plotted wdth in- 
tense and mahgnant activity, to accomplish the ruin of the 
cardinal the moment the kmg should expire. But Louis, 
contrary to their wishes, recovered. His disease was 
nothing more than an imposthume in the stomach, which 
eventually broke, and the matter being discharged, the 
king recovered more than his usual health. But durmg 
this interval of suspense, the two queens, the two Maril- 
lacs, the one the keeper of the seals, and the other the mar- 
shal, Yautier, the first physician to the queen, the princess 
de Conti, the duchess d'Elbouef, the countess de Fargis, 
and some others, had formed a powerful cabal against 
the cardinal, which the unexpected recovery of the king 
for the present baffled. 

The king and his suite returned to Paris, but the sup- 
pressed volcano stiU burned with intense, though hidden 
fury. The cardinal had been informed, by his secret 
agents, of all that had transpii-ed. While the king lay 

sick at Lyons, his apprehensions had been aroused, and 
B* 3 



34 BASSOMPIERRE. 

he began to take measures for his safety, in the event of the. 
king's death. Among other things, he requested Mar- 
shal Bassompierre to grant him the use of the Swiss guards 
as an escort, untU he should have arrived in Langeudoo, 
at a retreat which he had there chosen. The marshal re- 
fused ; and in the sequel, was made a memorable victim 
of the cardmal's insatiable revenge. 

On their arrival in Paris the hostility of the cardinal 
and Mary de Medici broke out afresh. Louis repaired in 
person to the palace of the Luxembourg, in which the 
queen-mother resided, for the purpose of effectmg a rec- 
onciliation. He ordered the cardinal to be in attendance, 
in an adjoining apartment. Mary de Medici broke forth 
in transports of rage and abuse against her powerful and 
wily enemy, as soon as the interview began. The king 
in vain attempted to appease her. Hoping that the pres- 
ence of the cardinal might, perhaps, have that effect, he 
ordered him to enter ih^ room. As soon as he appeared, 
she pom-ed a torrent of abuse upon him. She stigmatized 
him as a villain, an ungrateful, malignant wretch. She 
called him the disturber of the public peace. She de- 
clared that he had usurped the power of the king, and 
that he made the whole court and nation subservient to 
his selfish and unprincipled ambition. Rising from her 
seat, she approached the cardinal, who remained standing 
in an humble attitude during this extraordinary scene, 
and pointing her finger at him, she exclaimed to the king, 
in a transport of rage — " There is the man who would 
willingly deprive you of your crown, to place it -on the 
head of the count de Soissons, who is to marry his niece, 
La Combalet ! " 



RAGE OF MARY DE MEDICI. 35 

Overcome by the intensity of her emotions, the unhappy 
qaeen-m.other sank into her chair, and burst into tears. 
The wily cardinal, who knew best how to act under these 
extraordmary circumstances, remained silent. The king 
spoke for him, as he mtended that he should. He de- 
clared that the cardinal had been a faithful and able ser- 
vant to him ; but at the same time, he ordered him to re- 
tire. The kmg was left alone with his mother. The 
latter then resumed her endeavors to effect the ruin of her 
foe. She appealed to every possible consideration which 
ought to influence the monarch. She was his mother ; 
she had borne him under her bosom ; she had brought 
him into the world ; he carried m his veins her blood ; she 
loved him only as a mother could love ; and yet " that 
cursed caitiff, the cardiaal," had treated her with every in- 
dignity ; had destroyed her influence over his mind, and 
her credit in the court ; he had ruined her happiness ; 
and the sight of his daily triumph over her imbittered 
her whole existence. At the same time, he was nothmg 
but a selfish adventurer. He cared not a straw for the 
king, save as the instrument of his ambition, and his re- 
venge. He oppressed the people, the nobility, and the 
court. He united all riches, honors, dignities, in himself. 
Could a dutiful son hesitate a moment how to choose be- 
tween his own mother, and such a wretch ? The voice of 
reason and of religion dictated but one course, and that 
course was, to put an end at once and forever to the dis- 
graceful and malignant tyranny of the cardinal. 

The violence of the conduct of the queen-mother defeat- 
ed its own purposes. The king was disgusted, rather than 
won. He retired, determined upon the very opposite 



36 HER TEMPORARY TRIUMPH. 

course demanded by his mother. In truth, Lonis XIII. was 
a weak and unprincipled creature, over whose feeble mind 
Richelieu had acquired an absolute dominion. All he 
cared for was his own security and ease ; and to the pos- 
session of these, the talents and services of the cardinal 
were indispensably necessary. The king had but httle 
discernment ; yet that little was just enough to enable him 
to see that there was no one who could fill the place of 
Richelieu; and hence he determined that nothing should 
displace or degrade him. 

But at that moment, these purposes of the king were un- 
known to both of the hostile parties. When he left the pres- 
ence of the king and queen-mother, Richeheu himself ex- 
pected his disgrace. He hastened to his palace, and com- 
menced immmediately to pack up his papers, to burn the 
most dangerous of them, and to secure his plafe and jewels. 
He intended to retire to Brouage, of which place he was the 
governor, in order to escape the vengeance of his mmier- 
ous and powerful enemies. 

During this short interval, a singular scene was presented 
at the palace of the Luxembourg, the residence of the 
queen-mother. Mary de Medici seemed certain of her 
triumph. Her exultation was beyond all bounds. Soon 
the welcome news flew through the whole court circle, that 
the powerful, the feared, the hated cardinal was about to fall 
from his dizzy eminence, and to meet that ruin which he had 
inflicted on so many others. The drawing-rooms of the 
queen-moth-ar were crowded with the happy and exulting 
multitude of her fiiionds. Plans of vengeance and humifla- 
tion were devi«txi) to render the fall of the cardinal more 
mortifying smdl oomplete ; and congratulations were of- 



PERPLEXITY OF THE KING. 37 

fered to the queen-mother, and to all her favorites, that 
now, at last, the era of then* triumph had arrived. 

While this gay and premature scene was passing at the 
Luxembourg, on November 11th, 1630 ; and while Riche- 
lieu was hastUy preparing to escape from the impending 
ruin, the king repaired to Versailles. There he threw 
himself on his bed, and declared to Ms favorite, St. Simon, 
that he felt as if he were inwardly on fire ; and that the 
violence of his mother had so disconcerted him that he 
could find rest nowhere. After a short interval his feeble 
mind reverted to its usual prop, the cardinal, and he sent 
for him to come immediately to his presence. Richeheu 
instantly comphed with this welcome order. He threw 
himself at the king's feet, and thanked him as the best, 
the most constant, the most indulgent master that ever 
the sun had shone upon. The monarch assured him ot 
his continued favor, and told him to dismiss his fears. 
Richeheu at the same time adroitly said, that he could not 
accept the honor of remaining near the person of the king, 
for fear of being the cause of a scandalous separation be- 
tween a mother and her son. He would seek some soli- 
tude where he could weep over the fact, that he had been 
compelled to seem, an ingrate to his benefactress, the 
queen-mother, in consequence of his paramount devotion 
to the more important interests of her son. He kissed 
the king's feet and then rose. Louis then again com- 
manded him to remain in his office of prime minister, and 
even divulged the names of those who, in addition to hia 
mother, had been most active in making unfavorable rep* 
resentations to him against the cardinal. 

The triumph of Richelieu over this powerful cabal soon 



38 RICHELIEU TRIUMPHS OVER THE CABAL. 

became known ; and in a day, the saloons of the Lux- 
embourg became a perfect soUtude. Of all the crowds 
of courtiers who, a few hours before had congratulated 
Mary de Medici uj)on her supposed triumph, not one was 
there to be seen ! The queen-mother discovered, when 
too late, how impregnable the power of Richelieu had 
become ; and from that moment he determined to eifect 
her ruin, and the rmn of all who in any way had taken 
sides with her against him. This transitory triumph of 
the queen-mother and her friends, has . been justly termed 
in all succeeding time la journee des Dupes- — the day of 
the dupes ! 

The vengeance of the cardmal was terrible, and the 
gratification of it became one of the great aims of his sub- 
sequent Hfe. The Marillacs, Montmorenci, the princess 
de Conti, Marshal Bassompierre, and many others, were 
ruLQed as victims to his insatiable revenge. Some exj)ired 
upon the wheel of torture, or on the scaffold. Others were 
imprisoned m the Bastille, and spent many years in sohta- 
ry and cheerless confinement. Am.ong the latter was the 
case of Marshal Bassompierre. This man was one of the 
most accomplished, distinguished, and fascinating cour- 
tiers and generals of that period. He had become cele- 
brated for his victories, when commanding the French ar- 
mies ; and he had acquitted himself with high honor in 
several embassies of great importance which had been in- 
trusted to him. Nor was he less celebrated m the gentler 
arts of love. It is a circumstance which serves to illus- 
trate the state of morals prevalent in the court of which 
a prelate and a churchman was the acknowledged head, 
that Bassompierre, immediately before his arrest, and in 



BASSOMPIERRE'S IMPRISONMENT. 39 

apprehension of that event, on the 24th of February, 1631, 
burnt more than six thousand love-letters which he had 
received from different ladies, and which would have com- 
promised the honor of the most distinguished families in 
the kingdom ! Bassompierre was confined ia the Bastille 
for twelve years ; nor was he released untU the strong 
hand of death had put an end to the vengeance, together 
with the life, of the implacable cardinal.* 

But his fiercest persecutions were reserved for the un- 
fortunate Mary de Medici. Richeheu now determined on 
nothing less than her entire banishment from France, her 
degradation, impoverishment, and ruin. He first iuduced 
the king to visit the city of Compeigne, accompanied by 
his mother. The object of this trick will soon be appar- 
ent. After a short residence there, the king and his suite 
suddenly returned to Paris, without informing Mary de 
Medici of his purpose. When she prepared to follow him, 
she found the gates of the city shut upon her. She was 
a prisoner within its walls ! Her mental suffei'ings, at 
the infliction of this indignity to a princess of her temper, 
may be imagined, but they cannot be described. After 
a few weeks of detention there, she succeeded in mak- 
ing her escape ; and after some vicissitudes, she fled to 
Flanders, feeling that she should never be secure from 
the deadly hatred and violence of the cardinal, as long as 
she remained within the French territory. 

The subsequent vicissitudes of the life of Mary de Medi- 
ci, her sufierings, and her fate, almost exceed the exag- 

* See Memoires du Marechal de Bassompierre, contenans I'Histoire 
du sa vie, et de ce qui s'est fait de plus remarquable a la cour de 
France pendant quelques annees. Amsterdam, 4 vols, 1723. 



4-0 EXPULSION OF MARY FROM FRANCE. 

gerations of romance. She successively visited Holland 
and England. Her own daughter Henrietta sat upon the 
throne of the Stuarts, and yet she was powerless to secure 
the return of her mother to France. The onmipotent 
cardinal sternly forbade it. She herself wrota to her son 
Louis XHI., but Richelieu himself dictated a cold, and al- 
most an insulting refusal. Even her property in France 
was confiscated by the orders of Richelieu ; and Mary de 
Medici became dependent upon the charity of her friends 
for her subsistence. Louis XHI. in one of his letters to 
her declared, "that he had every wish to serve his mother, 
but that he could not send her any money, because he 
had no doubt her evil councillors would make a bad use 
of it." 

At length, in the year 1637, Mary de Medici was even 
driven from England, through the intrigues of the cardi- 
nal ; and she took her last refuge in the ancient city of 
Cologne. There, in a small house in which, sixty years 
before, the immortal Rubens had been born, an old shoe- 
maker and his wife then resided. They occupied the 
rooms on the first floor. The second and third stories 
were let to lodgers. And in the garret of that house 
dwelt Mary de Medici, and her single remaining atten- 
dant, her serving man, Mascali. The apartment was poorly 
furnished, and the utmost poverty was exhibited by every- 
thing around them. On the 10th day of January, 1641, 
the ex-queen was sick ; and that once noble form, which 
had formerly graced the most brilliant throne in Europe, 
by the side of the chivalrous Henry IV., lay shivering 
from cold and hmiger, on a hard and humble bed. MascaH 
went out to procure, if possible, some food, to give sus- 



MARY DE MEDICI IN COLOGNE. 41 

tenance to the famislied. woman. At length, after a short 
absence, he returned to the garret, with a bowl of gruel 
obtained from the shoemaker on the first floor. The ex- 
queen greedily received it ; and the next day she felt bet- 
ter. She thought, as she looked out from the window 
of the garret, over the wide and uneven waste of snowy 
roofs around her, that as the sun shone so brightly, she 
would venture to take a short walk. By MascaU's help, 
she descended safely the steep and narrow stair-case, and 
passed out into the street. She had not gone far before she 
was suddenly accosted by a nobleman, in courtly dress. 
It was her ancient friend, the duke of Guise, who had 
also been banished from France by Richelieu; and who 
detected the features of his former sovereign and friend, 
amid the humble and faded weeds in which she was then 
arrayed. He bowed instantly very low ; and taking off 
his hat, he addressed her in terms of the profoundest sym- 
pathy and respect. The next day he sent a note to her 
humble lodgmgs. It declared that, out of the wreck of 
aH his former fortunes, he had only two hundred louis 
d?ors remaining ; and that he enclosed one himdred of 
them for the use of her majesty. 

This sum of money supported Mary de Medici for two 
years, in that garret in Cologne. At length even these 
were exhausted, and no alleviation had come to the mis- 
fortunes of the exile. On the 12th of February, 1642, a 
low, moaning somid of pain issued from that hard and 
humble couch. The faithful Mascali entered the garret, 
exclaiming " Nothing ! nothing ! " He had gone forth to 
procure food, and had obtained none. The moaning 
sound continued. It was then again winter ; and tho 



42 DEATH OF MARY DE MEDICI. 

apartment "was cold and cheerless. Mascali collected the 
rags together which the apartment contamed, and en- 
deavored to warm the dying queen. At this moment the 
rnmhiing somid of carriage wheels was heard stopping at 
the door of that humble house. A heavy man is heard 
toiling up the steep stair-case. At length a knock re- 
sounds at the door. Mascali opens it. Fabro Chigi, who 
afterward became pope under the name of Alexander VII., 
entered the apartment, to impart to the sufferer the last 
succors of rehgion. He had just discovered the presence 
of the ex-queen of France in Cologne, and had hastened 
to her bedside. It was too late to afford physical relief; 
and he endeavored to impart to her spiritual comfort. 
Among other things, he is said to have urged her to for- 
give her enemies, as she was soon to appear before God 
in judgment. She feebly acquiesced. He then uttered the 
name of Richeheu, and said that even he must also be for- 
given. The frame of the dying queen seemed to be in- 
stantly convulsed with a pang of anguish. She turned 
her dark eyes reproachfully toward the priest ; moved 
away from him convulsively La the bed ; exclaimed, in 
the long-disused language of her sunny and happy youth : 
'•'• E troppo I ''"' that is too much! and then expired. Chigi 
is said to have afterward confessed, that he had indeed 
required too much for human nature to perform. 

There, in poverty and from actual starvation, in a gar- 
ret in Cologne, Mary de Medici, the most illustrious vic- 
tim of the implacable and unscrupulous Richelieu, ended 
her memorable and unfortunate career. Such was the 
fate of one who was the wife of Henry lY., the mother 
of the then reigning sovereign of France, the mother of 



THE DUKE OF ORLEANS. 43 

Isabella, queen of Spain, of Henrietta, queen of England, 
of Christina, duchess of Savoy, of Gaston, duke of Or- 
leans, and a direct descendant of that immortal house of 
Florence, which had produced Lorenzo the Magnificent, 
Pope Leo X., Pope Clement VII., and many other illus- 
trious princes. 

Having banished the mother of the king from France, 
Richelieu found it necessary to commence hostilities 
against his next most powerful enemy, the king's brother, 
the duke of Orleans. After much persecution the latter, 
who was a frivolous and vindictive prince, determined to 
invade France with a hostile army, and punish the cardi- 
nal and all his enemies. He ravaged Burgundy and Avi- 
vergne, and burnt Dijon. Richelieu sent an army against 
the duke, under the command of Marshals Schomberg and 
La Force. The duke of Montmorenci, a patriotic and 
disthiguished nobleman, who hated the cardinal in conse- 
quence of his unscrupulous ambition and cruelty, joined 
the duke of Orleans. He was the highest noble in the 
realm, next to the royal family. At Castelnaudary, a bat- 
tle was fought between the rival factions and their troops, 
which resulted in the defeat of the rebel troops, in con- 
sequence of the baseness and cowardice of the duke of 
Orleans himself. This defeat placed the duke of Mont' 
morenci in the power of the triumphant cardinal. The 
captive duke was tried and condemned to ■ death on the 
charge of treason. Great efforts were made by some of 
the most distinguished princes of the reahn, to induce the 
king to pardon him. The most urgent intercessions and 
affecting appeals were used in his behalf. He was execu- 
ted in spite of them all. The omnipotent Richelieu had 



44 RICHELIEU'S FOREIGN ALLIES. 

determined that Moutmorenci should perish ! Through 
the agency of the cardinal, the duke of Orleans was again 
reconciled to his brother, the king ; a reconciliation which 
lasted until aU the money which the duke obtained was 
spent upon his mistresses, and in gaming. 

When the stirring events of the Thirty Years' War 
began to convulse Europe, Richelieu adopted the policy 
of fortifying France by treaties with foreign states, but 
resolved not to take any active part in the' conflict. Ac- 
cordingly, he formed alliances with Sweden, with Hol- 
land, with the prince of the ISTetherlands, with the duke of 
Saxe-Weimai', with the Swiss, and with the dukes of Sa- 
voy and Parma. It never had been the policy of this 
able minister to encourage the carrying on of foreign and 
aggressive wars by the armies and generals of France, 
He either did not believe the character of Louis XIII. 
possessed of sufficient strength to iaduce him to follow 
out such a poUcy, or else he found his own power and su- 
premacy in the state more easily secured and preserved, 
by confining the attention of the king to internal events, 
and to the contests, mtrigues, and factions of the court. 

Even the successor of St. Peter at Rome, Pius V., hav- 
ing had the misfortune to offend the cardinal, did not es- 
cape his all-powerful vengeance. Richelieu sent the Mar- 
shal d'Etrees, whom the pope most cordially hated, as his 
ambassador to Rome ; and gave him peremptory orders to 
treat the sovereign pontiiF with such mai'ked mdignities 
as to give him extreme mortification. The ambassadoi 
executed his mission so effectually that his rudeness and 
msults so deeply wounded the pope, that it hastened, and 
even occasioned his death. 



THE PALAIS ROYAL. 45 

It was at this period of triumph that the cardinal be- 
sought Louis XIII, to iDermit him to bestow a gift upon 
him, in some humble measure indicative of his profound 
sense of the obligations under which he considered him- 
self to his royal master. The king consented, and Rich- 
elieu presented to him the magnificent assemblage of 
buUdings then called Le Palais Cardinal, afterward known 
to an infamous celebrity under the name of the Pal- 
ais Royal. To this munificent gift Richelieu added his 
Chapelle de Diamants, his chased silver buifet, and his 
great diamond. Gifts hke these serve to show the vast 
amount of wealth which Richelieu had secured during 
his career of successful ambition ; and they prove the in- 
satiable rapacity with which he had improved his oppor- 
tunities of acquisition. 

It was a portion of the crafty scheme ol Richelieu, to 
retain his vast influence over the king, by diminishing the 
credit not only of the queen-mother, and of his brother, 
the duke of Orleans, but also that of his wife, Anne of 
Austria. Hence he endeavored to keep up in the mind 
of Louis, a dislike for his queen, and as she had remained 
so long childless, jt was a matter of importance to him to 
continue, and if possible to increase, the aUenation which 
existed between the royal pair ; for as soon as it would 
become known that Anne of Austria was about to pre- 
sent an heir to the throne, her influence over her husband, 
and her consideration in the state, would have been vastly 
augmented. 

But in this particular case, the purposes of the wily 
and selfish prelate were foiled in a most singular and un- 
expected manner. 



46 THE FILLES DE ST. MARIE. 

The temperament of Louis XIII. was particularly cold ; 
and the only attachments which he ever seemed to have 
formed for the female sex, were of a purely Platonic 
character. Among the circle of the female acquaintances 
of the king, there was no one more attractive and pleas- 
ing in her person and intellect, than the virtuous, amiable, 
and accompUshed Mademoiselle Lafayette. The king, in 
passing through Paris on his way from Versailles to St. 
Maur, stopped at the convent of the Filles de St. Marie., 
in order to spend several hours in the society of this lady, 
who had taken reftige in that retreat from the persecu- 
tions of RicheUeu, who was jealous of the king's regard 
for her. During his conversation with her, a furious 
storm arose, which rendered it impossible for the king 
either to proceed to St. Maur, or to return to Versailles. 
The tempest continued with unabated violence until night 
approached. It became a question of importance then, 
where the king should lodge during the night. It would 
be unseemly for him to remain m the convent. lib would 
be unsafe for him to repair, without his usual guards, to 
any pubhc or private residence. He had for many years 
never slept in the apartment or dwelling of the queen, 
who resided in the palace of the Louvi'e, in Paris. The 
king was greatly agitated. This was one of the most 
desperate emergencies of his life, and he, without the aid 
of the cardinal, was utterly confounded. At length Mad- 
emoiselle Lafayette benevolently suggested, that it would 
be best for the king, under these circumstances, to repair to 
the residence of the queen, where he would be not only 
secure, but also would be waited upon in such a manner as 
to render him comfortable. Overborne by the necessities 



BIRTH OF LOUIS XIV. 47 

\>f the case, rather than induced by any regard for hia 
wife, the king at length consented. Word was instantly 
sent to the Louvre, that Louis would lodge at that j^alace 
during the night ; supper was ordered to suit his taste ; 
the neglected queen received him kindly; and nine 
months after that stormy night Louis XIV., who reigned 
over France for more than seventy years, was born ! 

A relative of Mademoiselle Lafayette was a person 
of too much importance in himself, and too intimately 
connected with the career of Richelieu, to be passed by 
without notice. This person was the celebrated Father 
Joseph. Li some respects the character of this man was 
superior to that of Richelieu, in others, it was inferior. 
He possessed a degree of firmness, and stoical indifference 
to the vicissitudes of fortune, of which Richelieu was 
destitute ; for the latter was ever suspicious and fearful of 
impendiag danger and disgrace. Joseph did not possess 
the profound, far-reaching craftiness of Richelieu. lie 
was confounded by the long and tangled details of a great 
intrigue, in the unravelment and direction of which his 
master found his greatest glory and dehght. But 
the craft of Father Joseph was that petty, superficial 
cunning, which characterizes feeble, though supple and 
hypocritical or treacherous minds. Joseph was, in a word, 
the imp, the inferior devil of the great Beelzebub who so 
absolutely ruled him, the king, and France. Possessing 
the utmost respect for the talents of his master, admirmg 
his principles, and applauding his projects, as far as he 
(!omprehended their nature and their intended efiects, he 
was in every sense a servant and assistant to Richelieu 
of inestimable value. 



48 FATHER JOSEPH. 

And yet, the cardinal entertained no more real or sin 
cere regard for Father Joseph, than he did for any one 
else. After some years of devoted service to his master, 
Joseph thought that it was high time for him to receive some 
splendid and substantial remuneration. His ambition did 
not allow him to be satisfied with anything less than a car- 
dinal's hat, or at least, with the archbishopric of Rheims. 
The absurdity of such aspirations might have been apparent 
to any one from the fact, that an elevation so high would 
have rendered Joseph a rival of his master, and would 
have put an end forevei* to his dependence and subser- 
viency. Richeheu readily found abundant pretexts for 
delaying the accomplishment of these Avishes of his most 
trusted servant. He indeed offered him the bishopric 
of Mans, as a commencement of his elevation. But Joseph 
refused ; and redoubled his importunities for a cardinal's 
hat. Richelieu, to appease his eagerness, instructed his 
ambassador at the papal court to commence negotiations 
on the subject ; but at the same time he took such secret 
measures as effectually thwarted the furtherance of the 
project. 

There are not wanting persons who contend that 
Father Joseph was a man of great capacity. Grotius, 
for instance, declares that he sketched aU the outHnes of 
Richeheu's measures, and that the latter put the finishing 
touch to them. It is certam, that the monk was admit- 
ted to all the great state secrets of his master ; that he 
was deputed to negotiate with kings, princes, and the 
highest potentates of Europe. One of his greatest merits 
in the estimation of RicbeUeu was his utter and dai-ing 
uuscrupulousness, which never hesitated at the perpetra 



FATHER JOSEPH'S DEATH. 49 

tion of the most desperate and outrageous measures. 
Thus he once sent an officer with an important message 
uito Germany, the particulars of which, however, were so 
severe and cruel, that the officer supposed that there 
must have been an error in his instructions. He returned 
for more explicit directions, and found Father Joseph 
celebrating mass. Being pressed for time, he approached 
the priest and whispered, " Suppose these people defend 
themselves, what must I do ? " Suspending for a moment 
his sacred functions, Joseph turned aside, and whispered to 
the officer, " Qic'on tuetouV — Kill them all! and then pro- 
ceeded to finish the mass. 

At length, when the im.portunitiea of Father Joseph for 
the cardinal's hat became so urgent as to be inconvenient, 
he was seized with a mortal disease, and opportunely died. 
Some have asserted that he was poisoned by the orders of 
Richelieu. There is no evidence of the truth of this 
charge, except that the unscrupulous ambition of the cardi- 
nal would have led him thus to rid himself of a man who 
was becoming a dangerous and an aspiring rival. But such 
evidence can hardly be regarded as satisfactory and conclu- 
sive. Whatever may have been the real fact in the case, 
Kichelieu kept up the utmost show of tender friendship to- 
ward him to the last, and even had him removed, shortly 
previous to his death, to his own palace at Ruel. While 
Father Joseph was lying on his death-bed, Richelieu 
entered his apartment, and wishing to give him the 
geatest encouragement m his power, in harmony with 
the character of his servant, he exclaimed, "Courage! 
Father Joseph, courage ! Our troops have taken Brisach ! " 
The monk died in December, 1638, and Richelieu ex- 



50 CINQ-MARS. 

claimed, when he was informed of his death, " I have lost 
my right arm." He pretended to shed tears over his 
grave ; which display of sensibility induced the simple 
Louis Xni. to say : " I have lost one of my best sub- 
jects, and Monsieur le Cardinal his confidant and inti- 
mate friend." 

The last conspii'acy against the authority of the cardi- 
nal, which he was called upon to confront, and which he 
eventually crushed, was that of the king's favorite Cinq- 
Mars. This person had been introduced to the favor of 
the king by Richelieu himself, who readily discovered 
that Louis yearned for the society of some agreeable and 
harmless person, as a relief from the serious and solemn 
intricacies of state and of council which occupied the 
larger portion of his time. Cinq-Mars was a handsome 
young man, of amiable and pleasing temper, of very mod- 
erate abilities, and admirably suited to the purpose for which 
he was intended. He at once rose high in the confidence 
and friendship of the shallow king, and remained at the 
same time, the subservient tool of Richelieu. 

At this period the young courtier was secretly attached 
to a beautifiil and fascinating mistress at Paris, named 
Marion de I'Orme. It was the habit of Cinq-Mars to 
hasten to her residence, the instant the king retfred to 
bed, and to return thence in the morning early enough to 
await the monarch at his rising. Sometimes, however, ha 
was too late for this purpose, and in those instances as 
soon as Louis inquired for the favorite, he was informed 
that he had not yet risen. 

Marion de I'Orme belonged to that celebrated class of 
women, whose character and career form some of the 



MARION DE L'ORME. 61 

most interesting yet mournful pages of history. She was 
the Ultimate friend of the notorious Ninon de I'Enclos ; 
and like her, she was extremely beautiful, accomphshed, 
and perfidious. She possessed a large share of refined 
wit and intelligence ; was luxurious and expensive in her 
habits of hving; and regarded the indulgence of her 
voluptuous tastes as the highest end and blessing of ex- 
istence. Her fascinations enslaved the minds, as well as 
the passions, of her admirers ; and so potent were her 
charms that they had even subjugated the crafty Riche- 
lieu himself. At one period the illustrious churchman 
had been an ardent and humble supphant for her favors. 
It is not singular, therefore, that the peerless beauty, the 
fascinating wit, and the attractive grace of this modern 
Aspasia, were able to detain in the soft dalhance of her 
gilded boudoir, this handsome but feeble-minded favorite 
of the king, long after the sterner dictates of policy and 
of interest would have admonished him to be gone. And 
when, to her own attractions, there were added, as was 
sometimes the case, those of the equally fascinating Ni- 
non ; when, during the late hours of the night these two 
remarkable women, and their lovers, banqueted in the 
splendid apartments of Marion, beguiling the time with 
the piquant scandals of the court ; while Ninon pensively 
sang her softest, sweetest love-ditty, and Marion gayly 
narrated her most pleasing anecdote ; while the choicest 
viands of the earth combined with charming wit, brilliant 
repartee, and winning flattery, satiated then- physical and 
intellectual appetites ; when such mingled banquets as 
these, at which a Pericles, an Apicius, even a N apoleon, 
would not have disdained to assist, regaled the senses of 



52 CONSPIRACY OF CINQ-MARS. 

the fortunate favorites, it is not strange that the considera- 
tions of prudence often gave way before syren voices of 
such seductive, though fatal melody. 

When kings and ministers elevate men of moderate foi> 
tunes to such high eminence, they naturally expect them to 
be obedient, and subservient to their wishes. The un- 
timely absences of Cinq-Mars excited the indignation of 
Louis ; and when the real cause of them became known, 
that cause aroused the indignation of the jealous Riche- 
lieu. Yet, after a little petting and scolding, the dispute 
was adjusted ; but only to break out afterward again 
with intenser and more fatal ftiry. 

The king in his free and confidential conversations with 
his favorite, disclosed all that occupied his thoughts, but 
at the same time, he forbade Cinq-Mars to divulge certain 
things to the cardinal. The latter had been in the habit 
of learning many things through the subserviency of 
Chaq-Mars; and he soon discovered that, for some reason, 
his protege not only became less communicative, but that, 
in proportion as he became the depositary of the king's 
secrets, in that proijortion he became arrogant toward the 
minister. At length, he even went so far as to conspire 
for the assassination of the cardinal. He endeavored to 
attach the duke of Orleans and the duke de Bouillon to 
his conspiracy. Meanwhile, his own arrogance even to- 
ward the kmg, became almost insuiferable. He asserted 
publicly, that he did not spend as much of his tinae as he 
did formerly in the cabinet of the king, because his 
breath was so offensive that he really could not endure 
to go near hhn ! Just at this period, Richeheu became 
fiick atlsTorbonne, and Cinq-Mars delayed the assassination, 



EXECUTION OF CINQ-MARS. 63 

In the confident expectation that the minister would die, 
without the necessity of his intervention. This fatal error, 
and the delay to which it led, was the cause of his own 
ruin. 

The cardinal unexpectedly recovered. He employed 
the first moments of his convalescence, in devising the 
means whereby to destroy Cinq-Mars. Accident oppor- 
tunely came to his aid, and he obtained from an unknown 
hand, a packet contaming a copy of the secret treaty 
which the duke of Orleans and Cinq-Mars had entered 
into with the king of Spain ; a treaty in which important 
rights of France were ceded to that country, without the 
knowledge and consent of the king, or his minister. Riche- 
Ueu immediately sent this document to the king, as proof 
of the treason of Cinq-Mars ; and the former favorite was 
immediately arrested at Norbonne. The king appointed 
a commission to try the conspirators — Cinq-Mars, De 
Thou, and the duke de Bouillon. . The two former were 
condemned to death for treason ; and Richelieu, fearful 
lest the imbecile sovereign should relent and pardon 
them before the completion of theii* sentence, ordered 
them to be executed on the same day. Durmg the trial, 
Cmq-Mars maintained an obstinate and contemptuous si- 
lence ; but when the soft and ambitious voluptuary was 
being led to the torture-room, his fortitude gave way, and 
he freely and openly confessed everything. On the scaf- 
fold he acted mth more intrepidity, and , one of the last 
acts of this ill-fated young courtier was, to send with 
his jeweled portrait, a message of tenderness to the fair 
Marion de I'Orme. 
Three months after the accompHshment of this great 



64 DEATH OF RICHELIEU. 

triumph, the mighty cardinal expired. He had reached 
the height of human glory ; he had trampled aU his foes 
beneath his feet ; he had governed France for nearly 
twenty years with unparalleled splendor and success ; he 
had heaped up vast treasures which no man scarcely could 
number ; he had filled aU Europe with the renown and 
the terror of his name ; and now he was about to fall be- 
neath the inviucible power of the common enemy and 
conqueror of aU. His disease was a dangerous and pain- 
ful abscess on the breast. The imbecile king whom he 
had so long ruled with such absolute sway, attended him 
during his last sickness, and even administered his medi- 
cines with his own hand. He at length confessed to M. 
de Lescot, bishop of Chartres, and received absolution. 
On the 4th of December, 1642, he became much worse, 
and his end was evidently approaching. Being then 
asked whether he forgave all his enemies, he rejDlied with 
his customary craft, " that he never had any, except the 
enemies of France ; and that he acted toward them as he 
miplored Divine Justice to act toward him ! " He also 
added, "that he embraced the articles of the Cathohc creed 
with a perfect faith ; and that if he had a hundred thou- 
sand lives to give, he would sacrifice them aU for the faith 
and for the church ? " With such monstrous lies on his 
dying lips, did this great hypocrite, tyrant, and assassin 
quit the scene of his innumerable crimes, and approach the 
presence of his impartial Judge ! 

Richeheu expired in the fifty-eighth year of his age, and 
in the eighteenth of his ministry. When Louis XHI., the 
imbecile wretch over whom he had ruled, was informed 
of his death, he exclaimed coldly, there is a great politician 



IliCHELIEU'6 MENTAL QUALITIES. 55 

dead ; and in this single speech, he embodied more wis- 
dom than all the utterances of his whole life before. 

As to the personal character of this celebrated man, we 
are convinced that there can be but one honest opinion 
entertained by those who have carefully examined his 
history. It wiU be admitted by every one, that his tal- 
ents as a statesman, his sagacity, his penetration, the fer- 
tility of his resources, his firmness, and the consistency of 
the policy which he pursued, were aU unrivaled and unques- 
tioned. That he introduced order, vigor, and regularity 
into the administration is equally clear. That he rendered 
France, her armies, her court, and her king, respected 
and even feared throughout Europe, is indisputable. That 
he was one of those great, commanding, towering geniuses 
which visit the world at rare and long intervals, and leave 
behind them indelible and eternal foot-marks on the shores 
of time, for after ages to wonder at and to admire, will be 
admitted. But on the contrary, it is equally clear, that 
he was one of the most selfish, one of the most unscrupu- 
lous, one of the most cruel and miprincipled of mankind. 
His only god was himself. He despised his king, and only 
used him as the pliable mstrument of his own aggran- 
dizement. And to his insane worship of that god, he 
sacrificed the noblest and best blood of France. His re- 
venge for supposed hostility or insults, was more impla- 
cable and insatiable than that of any other great man, 
whose deeds adorn and disgrace the page of history. It 
was with great truth that the illustrious Grotius wrote 
of him, after his death, an epitaph in which he declared 
among other things, that " in this was he wretched, that 



56 JOY AT HIS DEATH. 

he made all men so ; being as well the torment, as the O:;.- 
nament of his times."* 

The announcement of his death was the sudden signal 
for exultations in various quarters of the habitable globe 
At that moment the dark and chilly dungeons of the 
Bastille resounded with the frantic screams of joy, which 
were uttered by his many victims ; from the illustrious 
Bassomj^eirre down to the obscure Dessault, who wrote 
a letter to the cardinal, when on his death-bed, full of 
scathing, and not unjust or undeserved invective. The 
innumerable fagitives in foreign chmes, who had fled their 
country to escape his wrath, congratulated each other ; 
and exulted over his death as if Satan himself had at last 
Deen crushed by the omnipotent and retributive arm of 
God. The French court whom he had so long overawed, 
and the French people whom he had so cruelly oppressed, 
rejoiced with one common joy that the great curse ot 
mankind had at last, after so many years of patient endu 
i-ance and suffering on their part, and of pernicious su- 
premacy on his, descended to the eternal silence and dart 
ness of the grave. 

It is said, tiiat not a human being in France mourned 
the cardinal's death, except his king, and his own favor- 
ites. To these he bequeathed munificent legacies. He 
gave the king.^ m addition to the presents made him du 
ring his lifetime, the sum of fifteen hundred thousand 
iiva-es. He bequeathed his splendid library to the uni- 

* "Hoc tamen uno miser, quod omnes fecit, 

Tarn saeculi sui tormentum, quam ornamentum," 

And he adds afterward, very appropriately; 
" Quo migravit sacramentum est ! '' 



HIS DRAMATIC FAILURES. 57 

versity of the Sorlbonne, which he had established. But 
all his untold wealth he had, during the latter years of his 
administration, cruelly extorted from the people ; and he 
had several times almost driven them to despair by the 
extent and rigor of his exactions. In a word, this great 
and gifted man was the most complete embodiment of 
selfish and unscrupulous mental power, which the world 
has even seen ; and while his whole life was spent in ele- 
vating himself, by depressing the power of the French 
nobles, under the plea of strengthening the prerogatives 
and supremacy of the king, he degraded, depressed, and 
ruined the people, whose interests and whose rights he 
treated with contempt, and habitually trampled under 
foot. 

And yet, the crafty cardinal, during his triumphant 
career, met with many mortifications. He attempted the 
composition of tragedy, and produced an impotent and un- 
fortunate play, named Mirame ; on the representation of 
which he expended three hundred thousand crowns. He 
was irritated beyond measure at the failure of this perform- 
ance ; and some of those who indulged their wit upon its 
absurdities, expiated their offense by many long years of 
captivity in the Bastille. Richelieu himself confessed that 
the six feet of earth, as he termed the king's cabinet, gave 
him more trouble than all the rest of Europe combined. 
He was tormented with endless suspicions of conspiracies 
and plots against his life and supremacy. He was even 
harassed with jealousy against those who excelled him in 
the only thing in which he failed, the dramatic art; and 
the great Corneille himself sufi'ered imder the penalties 

of his hatred. And it is unquestionably true, that had not 
C* 



58 CAUSE OF HIS SUPREMACY. 

Louis XIII. been one of the most imbecile and contemp- 
tible of kings ; liad he not been devoid of all mental dig- 
nity, energy, and penetration, it would have been impos- 
sible for even the crafty RicheHeu to have retained so 
long, the splendid and gorgeous, but baleful eminence, 
from whose heights he so greatly astonished the world, 
and so deeply cursed his country. 



CHAPTER II. 

MORALS AISTD MAISWEES OF THE COURT 01" VERSAILLES 
BEFORE THE FIRST FRENCH REVOLUTION. 

The regency of Anne of Austria, the supremacy of 
Mazarin, and the reign of Louis XIV., ensued upon the 
death of the impotent royal puppet who had been so 
adroitly governed hy Richeheu. The long reign of Louis 
XIV., glittering with a false, delusive splendor, which 
emanated from a colossal throne erected upon the ruios 
of the nation's hberty and prosperity, dragged the French 
court and peoj)le nearer than before to the yawning abyss 
of ruin. At length Louis XV. assumed the scepter ; and 
if France, heaving with the tremendous struggles of her 
gieat revolutions, presents a strikmg and impressive sub- 
joct of reflection, the character of her court, and the con- 
dition of her people immediately previous to those memo- 
rable scenes, are not less monstrous, nor less pregnant 
with interest. 

During the protracted reign of Louis XTV., France had 
been the worst governed kingdom in Europe, even in that 
dark age of princely corruption, tyranny, and oj^pression. 
To be a noble, or a member of the coui't, seemed to have 
given an immunity in almost every vicious excess. It 
was during the unparalleled darkness of that period that 
the greatest outrages were perpetrated by a voluptuous 
and pampered nobiUty, upon the most valuable and pt e- 



60 LOUIS XIV. 

cious rights of a frivolous and complacent nation. The 
eyes of the French people seem to have been strangely 
blinded, and their resentrdent disarmed by having be- 
held the false and delusive splendors of the reign of Louis 
XIV. ; than whom a more sensual, voluptuous, though mag- 
nificent sovereign, never adorned or disgraced a throne. 

During this period, both the person and the preroga- 
tives of the king were regarded with a sacred and super- 
stitious awe, as being elevated far above the reach of 
popular scrutiny, censure, or mdignation. While the 
French people admired the grandeur of their monarch, 
and the brilliancy of his court ; while they cherished the 
renown conferred upon the nation, by the celebrity of 
French nobles, statesmen, generals, and titled and mitred 
debauchees ; they forgot, in a great measure, the outrages 
constantly perpetrated by those persons upon their own 
most valuable privileges, under the color of the royal pre- 
rogative, and the unmemorial rights and immunities of 
prmces. At that period, the French nation were still dis- 
posed to believe that all the tyrannical acts of their sov- 
ereign were committed imder the influence of evil coun- 
sel ; and in the same loyal and charitable spirit, they con- 
tinued to hope and beheve that whatever he did which 
was virtuous and commendable, was the result of the in- 
herent benevolence and excellence of his own character., 
This delusion continued, in a great degree, to exert its 
protective and conservative influence during the reign of 
Louis XY. ; and postponed for a time that dreadful catas- 
trophe which, during the reign of his successor, swept 
away king, throne, and sovereignty into one terrible and 
universal ruin. 



DE CnOISEUL'S MINISTRY. 61 

The fruitflil source of countless evils to France during 
the reign of Louis XV., was the inflxience and adminis- 
tration of the duke of Choiseul, minister of foreign af- 
fairs. This talented but unprmoij)led statesman was an 
Austrian by education and feelhig. He had been French 
minister at the court of Vienna ; had there become the 
favorite and confidant of Maria Theresa; and was secretly 
attached to Austrian interests and policy. On his return 
to France, he obtained in conjunction with Madame 
Pompadour, the king's mistress, complete control over 
the weak and pliant mind of the sovereign. 

Choiseul was strong m the protection of Madame Pom- 
padour, whom Maria Theresa had permanently attached 
to her own interests, by flattering her vanity with com- 
pliments and presents. Choiseul supported the authority 
of the parhament, whose protector he styled himself. 
He became the declared enemy of the Jesuits, and suc- 
ceeded eventually in suppressing the order throughout 
the French dominions. His character, was bold, thought- 
ful, cunning, and sagacious. He possessed much firm- 
ness and resolution. He was steadfast and consistent 
in his plans. In a word, though his name and administra- 
tion have become almost obhvious to posterity, bemg 
echpsed by the greater brilliancy and magnitude of suc- 
ceeding events ; yet he was in no respects inferior in abil- 
ity, to statesmen of more enduring fame — to Mazarin, to 
De E,itz, or to Richelieu. 

It was through the influence of this man, united with 
that of Madame Pompadour, that in 1758 Louis entered 
into a treaty with Austria, which greatly aggravated the 
already existing evils in France ; which, in fact, made the 



62 THE JESUITS. 

latter country a mere province and dependency of Aus- 
tria ; and which, by binding the French king to furnish 
money and troops to Austria whenever called upon, ren- 
dered Louis XV. the tool and subject of Joseph II. 

It had always been the wise policy of the preceding 
sovereigns and statesmen of France, to weaken the su- 
premacy of Austria as far as possible. For this end 
had Henry IV., Richelieu, Mazarin, Louis XIV., and 
BeUe-Isle, labored and negotiated. AH the results of 
their labors had been lost by the baneful influence which 
the duke of Choiseul exercised over the weak and timid 
mind of his sovereign. 

Among the various measures projected and accom- 
plished by this miuister, was the suppression of the Jesu- 
its in France. This wonderful order of men, whose lives, 
whose talents, and whose energies are all devoted to the 
defense and propagation of absolutism both in church and 
in state, have ever been from the hour of their establish- 
ment, the most powerful supporters t>f despotic thrones 
and empires. In all lands and in every quarter of the 
globe, their efficiency has been found to be immense, 
and their attachment unwavering, to the interests of the 
throne and the altar. It matters not to them how tyran- 
nical a sovereign may be, or how absolute his authority ; it 
is enough for him to be an enemy to human freedom and a 
friend of their faith ; and he will find the secret and the pub- 
lic support of the disciples of Loyola of infinitely more 
value than a powerful army ; than an extensive and vigilant 
police ; than a full and inexhaustible treasury. To them 
all crimes, all expedients, and all measm-es, are alike in 
their merit, or in their enormity, provided they are favoi- 



THEIR SUPPRESSION IN 1162. 63 

able to the great and unchangeable end of all their exer- 
tions, and of their very being — the retarding of human 
progress, the suppression of human liberty, and the estab- 
hshment of despotisms. They have, on many important 
and critical occasions, secretly, but successfully, rolled 
back the advancing tide of revolution, which threatened 
to submerge beneath its waves the trembling thrones of 
affrighted monarchs. Men wondered at the sudden and 
mysterious change which took place in the current of 
events ; and while they beheld the clear proofs of the ex- 
istence of some hidden and powerful agent ; so perfect 
and consTimmate was the concealment, that they were ut- 
terly unable to designate what that mlluence was, whose 
wondrous effects they clearly beheld. That concealed, 
insidious, and powerful agency was often the unrivaled 
and stupendous order of the Jesuits. 

Yet, strange to say, this was the very body of men 
whom the infatuated minister of Louis XV. so unwisely, 
for the interests of his master, suppressed. This event 
took place in 1762. No sooner had the energy and pro- 
tection of this society been withdrawn ; no sooner. had 
the Jesuits ceased to support the throne by the Influence 
which they exerted ; by their secret instructions in the 
confessional ; by their powerful discourses from the pul- 
pit ; by their learned prelections in the university, and 
lecture-room; and by the profound works which they 
elaborated from the press ; than the foundations of the 
French monarchy began to loosen and give way. To. 
gether with the support of the Jesuits, the attachment of 
the clerical orders, in a great measure, was lost to the 
throne. For it was the policy of the duke of Choiseul, 



64 COURT OF LOUIS XV. 

whAe he was abasing the Jesuits, to elevate the new phi- 
losophy of Voltaire and Rousseau, to the high dignity and 
tafluence which had heen previously enjoyed by the 
churchmen. The suppression of the Jesuits was in a great 
measure regarded as the triumph, of the philosophers ; as 
an attack upon the priesthood ; as a disgrace intended for 
religion and the church. 

While this blow was directed by the ministers of Lcuis 
XV. against the great representative of morality, order, 
and reUgion in the nation, those unfortunate results 
foUov/ed which might naturaUy have been expected. 
France became one wide land of revelry, irreUgion, and 
profligacy. The court became the scene of the most ex- 
cessive and infamous debaucheries. The French people 
ever prone to imitate those above them in rank and pow- 
er, copied the fashionable improprieties of the court, with- 
out possessing that elegant refuiement which, in the vices 
of the great, takes away half their offensiveness. Then 
ccmmenced that scene of corruption so memorable in the 
history of nations. Mankind have read with horror, or 
at least with astonishment, the records of the voluptuous 
excesses and splendid pleasures of ancient Corinth — a city 
beautifully situated on the isthmus of that name, where 
a vast temple of Venus had been erected in a style of 
magnificence unsurpassed, even in the countries of Xerxes 
or the Parthenon, whose towering form glittered invi- 
tingly irom afar, beneath the azure sky of that fair land 
of genius and of song. But Corinth, filled as she was 
with the most beautiful and voluptuous courtesans of all 
climes, and crowded with the most opulent and lavish de- 
bauchees of all countries ; Corinth, in whose great temple 



ORIGIN OF MADAM POMPADOUR. 65 

the countless priestesses of the impure goddess celebrated 
her rites without any censure of law or public opinion to 
restrain them; — the deeds of Coriath were purity and inno- 
cence, compared with the excesses which then character- 
ized the brilliant and cultivated capital of France. Men 
have thought that Rome under Nero or Cahgula, had 
reached the worst extremes of human corruption. . But 
in the age and reigns of Louis XIV. and XV., the world 
was taught to beheve that the race of Poppeas and Mes- 
salinas, of ancient date and celebrity, had not yet passed 
away ; but that the lapse of centuries had even added 
to the intensity of their passions, and to the refinement 
of their vices. Not all the instances of ancient or mod- 
ern immorahty which have excited the wonder and dis- 
gust of mankind, have presented so vast and so astound- 
ing an instance of individual and national corruption, as 
that displayed by the court and people of France, at the 
period under consideration. 

The court itself was under the absolute dominion of 
women ; at the head of whom in influence, in beauty, and 
in nxfamy, was the king's mistress, Madame de Pompa- 
dour ; a name as badly celebrated in modern, as was As- 
pasia or Thais in ancient times. 

This lady, whose real name was Poissan, first attracted 
the attention of Louis, when hunting in the forest of Se- 
nart. She was of humble birth ; but her amazing beauty 
and grace at once fixed the admiration of the amorous 
monarch. In 1744, at a masked baU, he declared to her 
his passion, and she immediately became the king's ac- 
knowledged mistress. Her complexion was very fair. 
Her figure, arms, and hands were remarkably beautiful. 



66 HER INFLUENCE AND ARTS. 

Louis first provided apartments for her at Versailles. 
He presented her at different times with six estates, be- 
sides so vast a quantity of furnitm"e and valuables that, 
after her death, the sale of them occupied twelve months. 

She was introduced at court with great eclat, and was 
soon created marchioness de Pompadour. Knowing the 
king'-s aversion to business, she resolved to relieve him of 
that burthen, and to assume the reins of government 
herself. She appointed some of the ministers, and dis- 
missed others. Her talents for administration were re- 
spectable ; though her chief hold upon the affections of 
the monarch was her beauty, and her ability to amuse 
and divert an indolent king, whose time hung heavily upon 
his hands. She sometimes received the monarch in the 
garb of a milk-maid ; and the mighty sovereign of a great 
nation was charmed and ruled, more by the frivolities of 
this giddy, though fascmating woman, than by all the 
sages, and statesmen of France combined. In all the 
royal residences she erected theaters, in which she her- 
self performed ; and she liberally rewarded Voltaire and 
Rousseau, for literary productions which they wrote at 
her request, and for her amusement. 

The superior talents of Madame Pompadour are ad- 
mitted by aU who are impartial ia their estimate of her 
character. Maria Theresa herself complimented her 
judgment, and did not disdain to ask her advice. She 
even corresponded with the favorite, and honored her 
with the epithet of aime et honrie cousine. She brought 
about the treaty, in a great measure, in connection with 
the duke of Choiseul, wliich united France to Austria, 
and proved the most powerful blow to the authority and 



HER VINDICTIVENESS. 67 

influence of Frederick the Great, during the seven years 
war. 

Amiahle and complacent as was this remarkahle wo 
man to those who flattered and fawned upon her, she was 
terrible in her vengeance upon those who indulged their 
wit or sarcasm at her expense. The gloomy cells of the 
Bastille, with all their horrid scenes of suflering and of 
despair, were generally the life-long portion of those 
who were so unfortunate as to incur her displeasure. A 
few flattering verses addressed to her by the Abbe Ber- 
nis, made him a cardmal. Some years afterward, healing 
that he had spoken of her with disrespect, her resentment 
was furious, and he was disgraced, impoverished, and ex- 
iled. Latude, a young French oflicer, wounded her vani- 
ty, perhaps even unintentionally. The consequence was, 
that the miseries of the Bastille were his reward for the 
long and hopeless period of thirty-five years. 

It was to her cori'upt ingenuity that France was in- 
debted for the mvention of the infamous and renowned 
Para-awxr Cerfs. This establishment was situated near 
the forest of Satory, at Versailles ; and in it she assem- 
bled a number of young ladies, remarkable for their beauty 
and their immorahty, to divert the transient aifections 
of the indolent and imbecile king. By means of this vo- 
luptuous establishment, corruption was introduced into 
many of the first famiUes of the kmgdom ; and Louis XV. 
became the Sardanapalus of modern times ; the most de- 
bauched man of his age. He spent a hundred miUions of 
francs on the beauties of this establishment ; and that, 
too, at a time when the revenues of his kingdom were 
greatly embarassed and oppressed. It became the cen- 



08 HER DEATH. 

ter and hot-bed of vice, where its refinements were stad- 
ied, and its worse excesses were boldly practiced and 
approved. 

While these things were going on at court, public dis- 
orders were increasing throughout the kingdom. There 
were troubles in the church ; troubles among the magis- 
tracy ; and troubles among the people. In 1757 an ab- 
ortive attempt was made by Damiens to assassinate the 
king. When Madame Pompadour heard of this catas- 
trophe, she was compelled to leave the palace ; and re- 
mained an exile from it, as long as the danger of the king 
threatened to be fatal. Upon his recovery she returned 
again, and reasserted her former influence with redoubled 
power. At length, in 1764, she expired, at the palace at 
Versailles. For several years her health had been decli- 
ning, and her end was not unexpected. She died at the 
age of forty-two. For twenty years she had exercised an 
unbounded and banefiil influence, over the mind of the 
imbecile monarch, as well as over the destinies of France. 
She was to blame, in a great degree, for the many evils 
in church and in state, which gradually brought on the 
final catastrophe of the revolution, and overturned all in 
one common ruin. Her influence was probably more ab- 
solute and complete, than that of any mistress who ever 
ruled a king. While a few of her favorites enjoyed the 
benefits of her successful love and triumphant ambition, 
there were thousands who writhed under the fury of her 
capricious resentment ; and all France was made to mourn 
the evils entailed upon the nation, by her infamous lust, 
and her extravagant Ucentiousness. 

Upon the death of Madame Pompadour, the queen en- 



ORIGlJSr OF MADAM DU BARRY. 69 

deavored to win back Louis XV. to a course of virtue, 
and of attention to his family, and Ms subjects. For a 
very short time she seemed hkely to succeed. But her 
attempt was vain. The king soon relapsed again into his 
usual habits of indolence and lust ; and by coming under 
the influence of another mistress not less dissolute or fas- 
cmating than her predecessor, he rendered the evils which 
already afiiicted France, still more ruinous and intolera- 
ble. This woman was the celebrated Madame Du Barry. 

Of her, a French writer truly says : " She was a child 
as beautiful as Love, bjit had served an apprenticeship to 
debauchery in all the brothels of the Rue St. Honore.'''' 
This young woman was the daughter of a farmer in Vau- 
couliers, and was born in 1746. Her parents died shortly 
after her birth ; and she was thus thrown upon the world. 
She came to push her fortune at Paris, and entered the 
employment of a dressmaker. Li that brilhant capital, 
she soon feU a victim to the countless temptations which 
beset the path of the young and the beautifiil. She grad- 
ually descended from one degree of vice to another, mitil 
her splendid and imrivaled charms were paraded for pub- 
he prostitution, in the most celebrated brothels of the 
capital. 

Madame Du Barry is reported to have commenced her 
vicious career at the early age of twelve. After having 
been regularly thro^wn upon the town as we have said, 
she met the Count Du Barry, a Ucentious young man 
from Thoulouse, a frequenter of the houses of ill-fame 
in the capital, and already distinguished by the unen- 
viable name of le roue. He procm-ed her favors for 
the young noblemen of the court, and particularly for 



70 CONDITIOIS OF LOUIS XV. 

Lebel, the principal clerk of the department of foreign 
aifairs, with whom she at last lived publicly as his mis- 
tress. He at length placed her at the head of a gaming 
establishment in Paris, which, in consequence of her noto- 
rious beauty soon became celebrated. It was from this 
position that she was transferred to the royal bed. 

It is said that Lebel had been the principal agent of 
Madame Pompadour, in establishing the parc-aux-cerfs. 
When he had determined to introduce Madam Du Bar- 
ry to the king, it became necessary to provide her with 
a respectable name, as her own wa^ ignoble and unknown. 
Marshal Richeheu, who was also concerned in the in- 
trigue, persuaded the Count Du Barry to consent to a 
formal marriage with the complaisant yomig lady; and 
thus to stain the honorable name of his ancestors with 
the infamy of this connection. She was then introduced to 
the monarch as the Countess Du Barry ; and so satisfac- 
tory to the king were his first interviews with this prac- 
ticed and fascinating courtesan, that he immediately ac- 
knowledged her as his mistress, and proceeded to sur- 
round her with more than the usual splendors and luxuries 
which were attendant upon that disgraceful dignity. 

The imagination of Louis, as weU as his body, was 
worn out by a long and excessive career of debauchery. 
The elegant and refined blandishments of Mesdames Tour- 
nelle and Pompadour, could no longer have gratified him ; 
and he found a new excitement and fascination m the 
shameless embraces and abandoned excesses of this young 
girl. She treated him as the accomplished prostitutes of 
the Palais Royal usually treated the old and worn-out 
rakes of the metropoUs. This was something novel and 



LUXURY OF DU BARRY. 71 

interesting to Louis ; and hence the violent infatuation 
which seized him in reference to his new mistress ; which 
continued "vvith unabated vehemence, tUl the hour of his 
deatli. 

The prodigality of Madame Du Barry was ruinous to 
France. She always used gold plate, and possessed a cup 
of that metal of enormous size and value, presented her 
by the doting king. Her carriage cost fifty-two thousand 
francs. On the day of her/ete, Louis gave her a bouquet of 
diamonds, valued at three hundred thousand francs ; and 
a dressing table of massive gold, surmounted by two 
golden cupids, holding a crown enriched with diamonds, 
and so ingeniously arranged, that she could not look on 
the mirror without seeing herself crowned. When she 
lost immense sums at play, she gave drafts at s^'gh'^j upon 
the court banker, Beaujon ; which he paid with greater 
regularity than the expenses cf the government. Durmg 
the life of Louis XV., it is ascertained that she drew in 
this and in other ways, eighteen millions of francs from 
the royal treasury. This was the manner in which the 
exhausted revenues of the kingdom were expended, im- 
mediately previous to the outbreak of that revolution 
which wreaked such terrible vengeance on the innocent m- 
heritor of the name, the crown, and the obloquy of the 
Capets ; and while these abuses do not wholly excuse the 
infamous excesses of that revolution, they certainly go a 
great way to palliate their enormity. And yet. Madam 
Du Barry was a pattern of amiability, of generosity, and 
of benevolence. All confessed their admiration of her 
great beauty, charity, and gccd nature. 

To divert the ennui of the aged monarch, Madam 



72 DEATH OF LOUIS XV. 

Du Bairy imitated the expedient of Madam Pompadour; 
and allowed, in the recesses of the palace, disgraceful 
scenes of licentiousness to occur between the young cour- 
tiers and their mistresses, whom they were permitted to 
introduce for that purpose. The king conducted her in 
turn to aU the royal palaces ; and at each of them, he 
gave splendid and expensive entertainments in her honor. 
Had it not been for the opposition of the duke de Choi- 
seul, and his sister, the duchess de Grammont, it is prob- 
able that Louis XV. would have married his mistress, in 
the excess of his attachment, and of his inabeciHty. 
Though she failed in accompUshing this ambitious pur- 
pose, yet her unfading and peerless beauty retained its 
potent influence over the monarch, tiU the day of his 
death. When attacked by the small pox he sent for her; 
affectionately embraced her : covered her with kisses ; 
and vehemently declarec. that his greatest grief in dying, 
was the loss of such unrivaled and angelic charms ! 

Such were the pursuits and tiie attachments of the sov- 
ereign of France, whose relg-i immediately preceded that 
of tne outbreak of the first revolution. 

After perusing this short description of the character 
of the French king and court, tLe reader will not be sur- 
prised to learn the consequences which naturally resulted 
from such prolific and powerful causes. They are, indeed, 
Avithout a parallel in the chequered history of nations. 

As was the sovereign, so were all the ofiicers of the 
kingdom, appointed by him, and by his ministers. In the 
administration of justice throughout the whole realm, 
there was no longer even the semblance of impartiality 
or honesty. A liberal bribe, the favors of a beautiful 



THE STATE OF FRANCE. 73 

wife, or the caresses of a fascmating mistress, could al- 
ways sway the decision of a judge. Personal freedom 
was imiversally insecure, for lettres-de-cachet^ without ac- 
cusation or trial, were issued without even the authority 
of the king, to gratify the maUce and caprice of his cour- 
tiers. The servants of the crown, and the officers of the 
army, drew immense salaries, such as would scarcely now 
be credited. These expenses exhausted the resources of 
the treasury. The most important deliberations and 
measures of the government were decided in the arms of 
mistresses ; and the whims of thoughtless courtesans de- 
termmed the fate, and ruined the interests, of thousands 
of citizens. The most iiiij)ortant mterests of agriculture 
were destroyed by the outrageous game-laws which ex- 
isted. Wild boars and deer were allowed to run at large 
through the most richly cultivated districts, and to de- 
stroy the most valuable crops. It was forbidden to hoe 
and weed, lest the young partridges should be disturbed. 
It was forbidden to mow hay, lest their eggs should be 
destroyed. When these infamous laws were broken, and 
the culprits were arraigned for trial, the most outrageous 
corruption and oppression were jDracticed, which were 
sure in the end to ruin the defendants, and cast them jjen- 
niless upon the world. People were compelled to have 
their grain ground at the landlord's mill, and to make 
their wine at his press. The feudal services reqmred by 
the landed gentry were outrageous and incredible. The 
taxes were immense, and burdensome beyond endur- 
ance. The aristocracy, in connection with the clergy, 
possessed three-fourths of the soil of France. Yet they, 

for the most part, refused to reside upon theii' estates ; 
D 



74 MORALS IN THE CHURCH. 

but spent their revenues amid the dissipations of Paris ; 
while their agents increased the byH by the perpetration 
of additional outrages, to promote their own separate in- 
terests. The condition of the peasantry of France at this 
period, was miserable beyond all desciiption. Their 
houses were imfurnished and cheerless. Their apparel 
was ragged and filthy. Their toU was endless and mi- 
profitable. They saw no possible alleviation of their j^res- 
ent sufferings ; no reasonable hope of future deliverance. 

In the church, the corruption was two-fold. First, it 
was impossible for talent and virtue, if of inferior rank, 
to rise to the higher dignities of the profession. These 
were aU approjDriated by the titled and profligate mem- 
bers of aristocratic families. The state of morals was cor- 
rupt in the extreme, among both the higher and the lower 
orders of the clergy. To be an archbishop, or an abbe, 
was equivalent to being suspected as a person of licentious 
and dissolute habits. Religion and its ministers passed 
into imiversal contempt ; nor could the eminent virtues 
of a few, redeem the profession from the degradation 
produced by the notorious vices of the many. 

The disrespect mto which religion and its representar 
tives had fallen, was augmented by another powerful 
cause. The period had dawned upon France which was 
to witness the triumph of infidehty. These were the hal- 
cyon days of unbehef and ridicule ; the hour of triumph 
to Voltaire, to Rousseau, and the Encyclopedists. 

As soon as a nation becomes devoid of all religious rev- 
erence and feeling, the hour of its ruin is not far oil. 
Some rehgion of some sort, is necessary to the well-being 
of every social compact — of every organized cominuiiit}- 



MOKALS IN THE NATION. 75 

Tliis fact is illustrated by the history of nations. The ab- 
sence of all religion has ruined many of them. The presence 
and power of even a heathen faith, which taught the exist- 
ence and the supremacy of the gods and man's accountabil- 
ity to them, has preserved others m permanent prosperity. 
This was the true secret of the power and duration of the 
Grecian and Roman republics. The ancient Greek, being 
of imaginative and cultivated mind, in the absence of all 
revealed instruction on the subject of religion invoked 
the aid of his powerful intellect, and of his brilliant im- 
agination ; and the result was that gorgeous, beautiful, and 
imposing array of deities, who inhabited the golden pal- 
aces of Olympus, and reveled amid the voluptuous scenes 
of Elysium. To the Greek, or the Roman, every peal of 
thunder was the voice of angry Jove, On the battle- 
field, he thought he beheld the powerful achievements of 
some favorite and propitious god, scattering death among 
his foes. His splendid temples were adorned with exqui- 
site sculptures and paiatings, of those beautiful and heav- 
enly forms with which his refined and glowing fancy had 
peopled the immortal seats of paradise. With such an 
array of gods before them, the Greeks and Romans felt 
or acknowledged their superior existence, theu" supremar 
cy, and man's moral accomitability to them. The conse- 
quence was, that they never commenced a battle without 
invoking the divme assistance ; and they were hberal in 
their services and their sacrifices to what they believed 
to be the requirements of the true religion. 

But so soon as France became, in effect, a nation of in- 
fidels, denying the existence of the Deity, his control 
over the af&iirs of men, and man's accountability to him, 



^0 STATE OF THE FINANCES. 

both here and hei-eafter — ^the nation became one vast and 
countless assemblage of debauchees, of adventurers, of 
unprincipled and reckless scoffers of religion, and even 
of decency. The few behevers in the order of things 
which had just passed away, were stigmatized as super- 
stitious ; and every hcense in morals, in opinions, in 
church, and in state, began to be commended and praised 
under the specious title of Freedom ; nor was there any 
conservative or corrective power, either in the existmg 
church or state, capable of resisting the disorganizing el- 
fect of these widely-spread and radical evUs. 

In addition to aU this, the finances of the kingdom, 
which had been much embarrassed during the reign of 
Louis XIV., became hopelessly deranged under the feeble 
and perverted administration of his successor. The an- 
nual deficit during the last years of. this sovereign, 
amounted to seven millions of pounds sterling. This 
ruined state of things could not long continue. The na- 
tion was on the verge of total wreck. The tiers-etat 
were becoming desperate. The volcano under the throne 
was accumulating its pent-up fires. The superincumbent 
mass could not much longer suppress it, and a terrible and 
destructive explosion was about to break forth, dashing 
that throne and its appendages to atoms. 

Louis XV. at length died, having taken the smaU pox 
from one of the girls of the Parc-aux- Gerfs, who had 
been infected with the disease only a few hours before, 
and was ignorant of her condition. He gave her in re- 
tm*n the half-cured distemper under which he himself 
labored. His ignoble reign continued from its com- 
mencement in 1715. tUl his death in 1774, during the 



BIRTH OF LOUIS XV'I. 77 

immense period of fifty-nine years. Before he expired, 
the two diseases had changed his body into a rotten 
carcass. He received the last sacraments from a poor 
and blind old priest, who alone would ventm-e to un- 
dertake the task. He was then buried secretly by the 
night-men of Versailles. Such was the ignominious end 
of the last king of the elder Bourbon race who died in 
his bed ! 

Louis XVI. was born on the 22d of August, 1754. He 
was the grandson of Louis XV., and second son of the 
dauphin by his second wife, Maria Josephine, daughter 
of the elector of Saxony. 

During his youth, his education was entrusted to the 
Countess Marsan, whose rare mental and moral qualifica- 
tions, well fitted her for the important trust. This lady 
was governess in the royal family. In his younger years, 
and whilst surrounded by the most fashionable and disso- 
lute court in the world, Louis was always remarkable for 
the seriousness of his deportment, for the propriety of 
his conduct, for the morality and purity of his actions. 
He seemed to be strangely indifferent to all the brilliant 
seductions which encompassed him. The attractive dis- 
sipations, the beautiful women, the luxurious banquets, 
and the gay festivities which laid their seductive splen- 
dors at his feet, all appeared ahke indifierent to him. 

Three prominent features marked his youthful charac- 
ter ; his integrity, his indecision, and his weakness. He 
seems to have had but little vigor or energy of mind ; 
and was unable to think and determine for himself. And 
yet, he was not devoid of mental quahties. His memory 
was extraordinary, and he retained with great accuracy, 



^8 HIS MENTAL QUALITIES 

the information which he had acquired with great facility. 
His knowledge of languages was extensive ; and he was 
successful in niasteriug all those, branches of learning to 
which he applied himself. He even possessed considera- 
ble literary taste ; and rej)ublished and edited an edition 
of Fenelon's Telemachus. He also executed translations 
of portions of Gibbon's great work on the Decline and Fall 
of the Roman Empire. It may be said of him that he 
was a moral, and even a religious prince ; nor was the in- 
tense spirit of scandal which characterized his age and 
country, able to discover any breach of virtue, or even of 
modesty, which could be laid to his charge. There was 
one peculiar eccentricity with which he indulged himself, 
as harmless as it was peculiar. He was fond of the labors 
of a locksmith. He caused an apartment in the palace to 
be fitted up with the apparatus of a smith ; and thither he 
often retired, to indulge himself with his favorite exer- 
cise. The melodious music of the dance, in sweet cadence 
and harmony with which so many graceful feet moved in 
the gilded halls of Versailles, was often interrupted by 
the alternating echo of the an^dl and the furnace, resound- 
ing beneath the sturdy hand of the laborious monarch. 
The only vice ever laid to the charge of this prince, w^as 
the use of wine, which he sometimes carried to a more 
than reasonable extent. It was in this unobtrusive and 
harmless manner, that the youth of Louis XVI. passed 
away ; furnishing no presage of that stormy and disas- 
trous destiny, which was so soon to be his portion. 

The dauphin, father of Louis XVL, was so partial to his 
son, that he excited the jealousy of his brothers, the cotmt 
of Provence and the count d'Artois. This preference was 



T OUTH OF LOUIS XVI. fjQ 

the result of the peculiarly amiable and serious disposition 
of Louis, who at that time was known by the name of the 
duke de Berry. Madam Adelaide, who was particularly 
attached to him, endeavored to correct his excessive 
timidity, and said to him, " Sj^eak at your ease. Berry ; 
exclaim, bawl out, make a noise like your brother Artois. 
Dash and break to pieces my cliina ; make yourself talked 
about." But all these chiding reproofs were of no avail. 
The duke de Berry became every day more silent and 
thoughtful. 

While the prince repulsed flatterers, and did not dis- 
guise his contempt for them, he took an interest in the 
miseries of the unfortunate. He took great pleasure in 
observing the labors of workmen employed at the palace 
and the gardens. He would frequently assist them in 
raising a heavy stone or beam. He became very expert 
in making locks ; and obtained the title of the " Good 
Vulcan" from the royal family, on account of the blackness 
of his hands when working at this favorite amusement. 

At the death of Louis XV. the French nation were so 
weary of his long and almost endless reign, that Louis 
XVI. was universally hailed by the remarkable epithet of 
" Louis the Desired." He had himself declared, previous 
to the death of his predecessor, and as a reproof of the 
depravity of the old court, that he desired to be called 
after his accession, by the name of '■'' Louis the Severed 
He discovered no taste at any time for violent or noisy 
pleasures. He hated balls, gaming, shows, and pageants 
of aU sorts. He detested Hbertinism. He was indeed a 
Lot, lonely and unheeded, amid the corruptions of the 
mighty Sodom by which he was surrounded. One onlj 



go HIS AMUSEMENTS. 

pride he seemed to have entertained, ia connection with 
the exalted station of which he was the unwillmg heir. 
This was the attachment which he felt to the glory of his 
house ; and he dreaded everything which might tarnish 
its luster. 

When Louis ascended the throne, m 1774, he was in his 
twentieth year, and had already been married four years. 
Though he had ever been exemplary in regard to women, 
and was strictly faithful to his wife, the French could not 
imagine it possible that a Bourbon and a king could long 
retain his virtue ; and they prophesied that he would show 
the family trait, as all the rest had done, at the age of 
forty, when he became tired of the queen. His only amuse- 
ment was the chase. His principal mental diversion was 
his geographical studies, and the exammation of his charts, 
globes, and spheres. He was unusually dexterous in 
the art of washing these. His memory in geographical 
knowledge was prodigious. He possessed a good select 
library for his own use ; containing rare and expensive 
works, which he frequently and carefully perused. Di- 
rectly over this library, was the singular apartment ap- 
propriated to his amusements as a locksmith. Here he 
spent much time under the tuition of Gamin^ a common 
mechanic of the day, who afterward betrayed him to the 
convention, and aided in accompMshing his destruction. 
He declares, that in their intercourse he treated Louis 
with the rudeness of a common apprentice ; that the lat- 
ter w^as fond of inspecting and making curious and in- 
genious locks ; that he worked hard at the anvU, and the 
forge, and seemed to take delight in the vigor of his exer- 
cise ; and that he would frequently conceal himself fi'om 



HIS RIGOROUS CONDUCT. gj 

the queen and court, and pass stolen hours -with this lock- 
smith, just as other men steal interviews with their mis- 
tresses ! 

Over this mechanical apartment, was a lofty platform 
covered with lead, on which the king, seated in an easy 
chair, and with an immense telescope, surveyed for hours 
the courts of Versailles, the roads to Paris, and the gar- 
dens and villas in the neighborhood. He had contracted 
an attachment to Duret, who waited on him in his private 
apartments ; who sharpened his tools, wiped his anvil, 
pasted together his charts, and adapted his telescopes to 
the king's eyes. 

As sovereign of France, Louis was excessively severe in 
the punishment of any improprieties in his courtiers, when 
he became con-vinced of their thorough depravity. These 
acts of rigor seemed to be momentary fits of resentment, ex- 
cited by the turpitude of the criminal. The strong and de- 
termined wiU which devises and executes great measures 
of national policy, he never possessed. His memory was 
prodigious, as will appear from the following incident. He 
was one day presented with a long financial account for 
his examination, in which an item was erroneously intro- 
duced, which had been inserted in a similar account of 
the preceding year. " Here is a double entry," said he. 
" Bring me the account of last year, and I will show it to 
you." His recollection of the matter was accurate, and 
the error was corrected. But it was his misfortune, not 
his fault, that he did not possess the great administrative 
talents of a Richelieu, or a Cromwell. He was good, and 
that was nobler than to have been great. 

When Louis XVI. ascended the throne his resolu- 
D* 6 



82 HIS GOOD INTENTIONS. 

tions were admirable. He resolved to become a reformer 
and revolutionist; and he determined to remedy and 
correct every abuse under which the nation groaned, and 
the pampered court and aristocracy flourished. Had he 
been allowed to prosecute his plans, his crown and Ufe 
might have been preserved; and the horrors of the revo- 
lution might have been rendered unnecessary. 

But it was not to be his hapj)y destmy to accomplish 
this honorable purpose. He was thwarted and prevented 
by so many causes, that his efforts were rendered utterly 
imbecile. These obstacles arose from his parliaments ; from 
his ministers ; and from his unfortimate connection with 
Maria Antoinette. This princess, who exerted so impor- 
tant an influence ia reference to the destiny of Louis, and 
of France, now reqmres our more particular attention. 

She was the daughter of Francis I. emperor of Germa- 
ny, and Maria Theresa, the celebrated queen of Hungary. 
She inherited her mother's talents, her beauty, and her 
ambition. In 1770, at the tender age of fifteen, she was 
conducted to France as the affianced bride of Louis XVL, 
at that time the Dauphin. The marriage was celebrated 
at Versailles with great pomp and splendor. During the 
festivities which attended this important event, a calamity 
occurred, which threw a check on the general joy, and 
furnished a sad and terrible omen of the future disasters 
which attended that inauspicious marriage. A tempora- 
ry scaffolding took fire, and amid the terror and confusion 
which ensued among the multitudes crowded into the tem- 
porary saloons, three hundred persons were either suffo- 
cated or burned to death. 

Dming the first four years of the married life of these 



MARRIAGE "WITH MARIA ANTOINETTE. 83 

princes, they seemed to be perfectly happy. Three years 
of this period passed away before the accession of Louis 
to the throne. Their mutual affection seemed intense ; 
and as yet none of those political storms had burst forth 
which afterward raged so furiously around them. At 
this happy period, Maria Antoinette is described as pos- 
sessing an angelic figure, a remarkably clear complexion, 
a brilUant color, regular features, and beautifully expres- 
sive eyes. She had the Austrian under lip. Her dispo- 
sition was cheerful, happy, and confiding. She was in- 
deed the subject of general adulation. The pulpit, the 
academy, the press, the almanacs, according to the chiv- 
alrous custom of that age, were filled with flattery of 
her charms, and of her vu-tues. The old spirit of the pre- 
ceding reigns, which was accustomed to treat exalted 
rank and birth with chivalrous respect and dehcacy, had 
not yet become extinct. The insane vulgarity of Jaco- 
bhiism had not yet ventured to degrade and debase eve- 
ry person, and everything, which time and virtue had 
surrounded with the just reverence of mankind. The 
well-known rhajDSody of Burke, in reference to Maria 
Antoinette at this period, deserves to be re-quoted, as 
necessary to give a fair idea of the happy position which 
she enjoyed at this propitious period. " It is now sixteen 
or seventeen years," says this eloquent writer, " since I 
saw" the queen of France, then the dauphiness, at Ver- 
saUles, and sm'ely, never hghted on this orb, which she 
hardly seemed to touch, a more dehghtful vision. I saw 
her just above the horizon, decoratmg and cheering the 
elevated sphere she just began to move in, gUttering like 
the morning star, full of life, and 'splendor, and jcy I I 



S4 BENEVOLENCE OF MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

thought ten thousand swords would have leaped fromtheii 
scabbards, to avenge even a look that threatened her with 
insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophis- 
ters, economists, and calculators has succeeded, and the 
glory of Europe is extmguished forever," The kindness 
and generosity of her nature, which often induced her 
gracefully to stoop from her exalted station, to do acts of 
charity and condescension to the poor, won for her then, 
the enthusiastic aj^plause of all gallant and chivalrous men, 
and of a respectful and generous people. Let us cite an 
instance. A stag which had been wounded in the chase, 
when the king was present, struck a poor peasant with his 
horns. The queen, on hearuig of the incident, flew to his 
assistance, took his wife mto her carriage, loaded her 
with kindness, and granted her a pension. This was but 
one of many similar incidents which occurred at this 
period. 

The first mortification which Maria Antomette was com- 
pelled to endure, at the court of Versailes, was the dis- 
missal and disgrace of the duke of Choiseul, the mmister 
of foreign affairs, and the unchangeable friend and parti- 
san of Austrian interests. It was he who had brought 
about the marriage of Louis with Maria Antionette. It 
was he, who sought by every means to oppose the faction 
of Kicheheu, and the mistress of Louis XV., Madam Du 
Barry, but that faction now proved too powerful for him, 
and caused his disgrace. Louis XVT. ever afterward 
mistrusted his wife, whenever the interests of Austria 
came in question. Maria Antionette hated Madam Du 
Barry, and was jealous of her ; and the first act of severity 
of which she was guilty in France, after her accession to 



THE COUNT DE PROVENCE. 85 

the throne, was the rude and unceremonious banishment 
of this favorite, the moment the old king was dead. 

Such was the character of the queen at the period when 
she first shared the throne with Louis. The other mem- 
bers of the royal family. occupied so important a position, 
and exerted so decided an influence on succeeding events 
and on the fate of Louis, that it is proper to dwell, at some 
length, ujDon their peculiarities and character. 

The king had two brothers, the count of Provence, 
called, according to etiquette, Monsieur, and the count 
d'Artois ; men as diametrically different fi-om the king in 
dispositions, as two persons could possibly be. The count 
of Provence was an absolutist in principle ; and was op- 
posed to all measures of reform that could be proposed. 
He entertauied the idea, that all the nations of Europe 
grew out of royalty as existing in the reigning monarch 
ies ; and that the house of Bourbon was the first and great 
est of all the families on the earth. Yet he was vacilla- 
ting and incoherent in his political ideas. He was opposed 
to the house of Austria, and to the intrigues of Maria An- 
toinette in its favor. He considered her as the scourge 
and the calamity of France. He possessed a deeply medi- 
tative cast of mhid ; was remarkable for the mdepen- 
dence and originality of his ideas on the subject of gov- 
ernment ; and was, in a large degree, the most talented 
of the grandsons of Louis XV, 

The count d'Artois, the second brother of the king, 
had mherited from nature a very difierent disposition. 
He was strongly inclined to pleasure ; and his ii'regular 
and premature irLclinati( ns rendered the excesses of his 
youth outrageous. His licentiousness was unbounded, 



86 THE COUNT D'ARTOIS. 

and universaJy censured, even by the least scrupulous of 
men on that subject — by the French nobility themselves. 
In the same degree that the king was virtuous, chaste, 
and moderate, he was impure, extravagant, and outrageous. 
He was also an inveterate gambler, and on one occasion 
he desired to entice the king to join him in this indulgence. 
" Will you stake a thousand double louis-d'ors," said the 
count to him one day. " I will play with you with all my 
heart," said the latter, " but I will stake no more than a 
crown. You are too rich to play with me." At another 
time, while Louis was making a journey, some repairs 
were ordered in the apartments he was to occupy. Hear- 
ing that these repairs^ cost thirty thousand francs, he was 
very indignant. Said he, "I might have made thirty 
families happy with that sum." Yet this was the man 
whom the revolutionists guillotined, as the representative 
of every vice ! 

But Louis XVI. seemed to be the only eminent exam- 
ple of virtue in his family. The duke of Orleans, the 
father of Egalite, had been married to Louisa Henrietta 
de Conti. The duchess of Orleans during two years after 
her marriage seemed to be attached to her husband, but 
she soon became scandalous in her life, and gloried in the 
fact that she deserved the epithet of the modern Messa- 
lina. 

After the death of this shameless woman, the duke of 
Orleans married Madam Montesson, a lady of rare beauty, 
intelligence, and virtue. This person he seems to have 
sincerely loved ; and she was worthy of his affection. She 
reestablished good order and decorum in his house, while 
a taste for the arts, and refined wit, took the place of the 



THE DUKE DE CHARTRES. 87 

coarse licentiousness witli which the duchess of Orleans 
had degraded it. 

But the corruption and infamy of this remarkable fam- 
ily seem to have reached their climax in the person of the 
duke de Chartres, afterward termed Egalite. This prince 
was handsome in countenance and figure, and possessed a 
fair share of natural intelligence and talent. But his dis- 
position was excessively depraved and corrupt. Ht is 
said to have entered upon a career of vice at the early age 
of sixteen years. Having himself become thoroughly cor- 
rupt, he next seduced the young prince of Lamballe by 
means of the infamous women with whom he had become 
connected. It is said that he afterward poisoned this 
prince, in order that he might inherit the whole estate of 
the duke of Penthievre, whose only daughter he subse- 
quently married. He was indeed monstrum a vitiis nulla 
viriute redemptum. Carlyle, in his " French Revolution," 
gives the following character of the duke of Chartres: 
" Duke de Chartres was a young prince of great promise, 
as young princes often are ; which promise unfortunately 
has belied itself. With the huge Orleans property, with 
Duke de Penthidvre for father-in-law (and now the young 
brother-in-law Lamballe killed by excesses), — he will one 
day be the richest man in France. Meanwhile, * his hair 
is all falling out, his blood is quite spoiled,' — by early 
transcendentalism of debauchery. Carbuncles stud his 
face; dark studs on a ground of burnished copper. A 
most signal failure, this young prince ! The stufi" prema- 
turely burnt out of him; little left but foul smoke and 
ashes of expiring sensualities; what might have been 
thought, insight, and even conduct, gone now, or fast 



88 HIS EXCESSES. 

going, — to coniiised darkness, broken by bewildering daz- 
zlements ; to obstreperous crotchets ; to activities which 
you may call semi-delirious, or even semi-galvanic ! Paris 
affects to laugh at his charioteering ; but he heeds not such 
laughter." 

The ordinary excesses and refinements of lust were far 
from satisfying the depraved disposition of this remark- 
able man. Even after his marriage with the amiable and 
virtuous princess whom we have just named, he continued 
to lead the life of a libertine ; to ramble through all the 
houses of debauchery in the capital, and to order the most 
extravagant and licentious suppers. The most abominable 
orgies alone were his delight. He erected in the neighbor- 
hood of Paris a sumptuous temple of prostitution, where 
his favorites indulged themselves in the most abandoned 
profligacy. The most astounding part of all this was, that 
the duke of Chartres was not anxious to conceal these 
enormities from the light of day or from the knowledge 
and censure of mankind. He rather aided in their circu- 
lation. He laid a wager, at Versailles, that he would 
return to the Palais Royal, quite naked, on horseback, at 
frill gallop. The companions of his debaucheries were the 
first to blush at this horrid proposition, and they besought 
him at least to set out, not from Versailles, but from his 
stables. He reftised even the latter amendment, and won 
the original bet. He established an association of profli- 
gates, whose sole employment was to consult together for 
the purpose of devising some new abomination. 

Such was the character of the principal representatives 
of the royal family of France at the period of the out- 
break of the revolution. The glowing words of Carlyle 



THE INDIFFERENCE OF THE NOBILITY. 89 

show the utter blindness of the French nobility to the 
terrible catastrophe that is about to overwhelm them. 
" For the present, however, consider Longchamp ; now 
when Lent is ending, and the glory of Paris and France 
has gone forth, as in annual wont. Not to assist at Tene- 
hris masses, but to sun itself and show itself, and salute 
the young spring. Manifold, bright-tinted, glittering with 
gold ; all through the Bois de Boulogne, in long-drawn 
variegated rows; like long-drawn living flower-borders, 
tulips, dahlias, lilies of the valley; all in their moving 
flower-pots (of new-gilt carriages) : pleasure of the eye, 
and pride of life! So rolls and dances the procession: 
steady, of firm assurance, as if it rolled on adamant and 
the foundations of the world ; not on mere heraldic parch- 
ment, under which smoulders a lake of fire. Dance on, ye 
foolish ones ; ye sought not wisdom, neither have ye found 
it. Ye and your fathers have sown the wind, ye shall reap 
the whirlwind. "Was it not, from of old, written : The 
wages of sin is death F" The mighty and turbulent wa- 
ters of that flood, were now beginning slowly to move to 
and fi-o. The agitation was, as yet, but gentle and insig- 
nificant. But erelong it became terrible and destruc- 
tive. The unfavorable impression produced upon the 
French nation, by the unbridled licentiousness of some of 
the members of the house of Bourbon, produced a pow- 
erful effect in hastening on the revolution. The excited 
minds of the tiers etat did not distinguish between the 
vices of the many, and the redeeming vu'tues of the few. 
They supposed that as the royal family had been for gen- 
erations the most corrupt race in Europe, so no^r also, 
they were aU stiU possessed of the same character. With 



90 CONSEQUENCES TO LOUIS XVI. 

the undistinguishing and stupid fury which characterizes 
the rabble in all ages, they were about to harass, to tor- 
ment, and to destroy the only innocent person whom, of 
all the royal family, they should most carefully and anx- 
iously have protected. Louis XVI. should have been al- 
lowed to escape unhurt, from the ravages of a revolution 
which swept away the whole royal family. But on him 
they expended the bitterest vials of their wrath, and de- 
prived him of throne, of happiness, and even of life itself, 
for no other imaginable reason, except that he unfortu- 
nately was bora a Bourbon, and had been crowned a king I 



CHAPTER IIL 

OPENING SCElSrES OF THE FIRST FRENCH REVOLUTION. 

Let us contemplate Louis XVI. as he ascends the 
throne, and addresses himself to the difficult task of con- 
ducting the operations of a worn-out, embarrassed, and 
imbecile government. It may with truth be said, that 
his troubles had begun the very day on which he assumed 
his ill-fated scepter. 

One of his first acts was to appoint M. Mauripas his 
prime minister. This old courtier had obtained the con- 
fidence of the king, by seeming never to contradict him. 
Whenever he wished to gain the monarch's signature con- 
trary to his inclination, he never proposed the matter di- 
rectly. Pie said something of interest respecting Eng- 
land, or Spain, or the emperor of Germany. He an- 
nounced some particular success or disaster; and then, 
under pretense that the paper to be signed related to the 
subject of their conversation, he stole the signature of the 
confiding monarch, 

Mauripas occupied an apartment in the palace near 
those of the sovereign ; and thither the latter would fre- 
quently repair, to spend his time in the cheerful and di 
verting society of his minister. The salary, the style of 
Uving, and expenditure of Mauripas, were indeed suffi- 
ciently unostentatious. He possessed both sagacity and 
prudence ; he was laborious in the performance of his du- 



02 MINISTRY OF TURGOT. 

ties ; and as for the rest, he let the troubled world take 
whatever course it pleased. Such was not the man to 
guide the ship of state securely, in those troublous and 
tempestuous times. 

The voice of the nation demandesd that M. Turgot, an 
honest man, and a profound genius, should be called to 
the post held by Mauripas. Louis obeyed the popular 
will. Mauripas was dismissed, and Turgot was appointed. 
He had been a priest, a prior of the Sorbonne, and was 
at one time enthusiastic enough to say, that " all the bless- 
ings of the people were derived from the christian re- 
ligion." He afterward asserted that Christianity " was a 
work of useless superstition." Of him Malesherbes de- 
clared that he had the head of Bacon, with the heart of 
a L'Hospital; and that he labored to effect the results 
wliich the revolution afterward accomplished by more vi- 
olent means. Louis XVI. at this period declared that 
" the only true friends of the people were himself and 
Turgot." But the minister was soon dismissed, in conse- 
quence of the opposition of the nobility, whose excesses 
he absurdly attempted to reform. The lower orders, de- 
lighted at the display of disinterestedness which he ex- 
hibited in distributing three hundred thousand livres 
among the poor of Paris, thought that prime ministers 
no longer lived, and intrigued, only for the gratification 
of their own avarice. They called Turgot by a name 
which certainly does infinite honor to his memory — " the 
virtuotts minister." 

He was succeeded by M. Necker, a Genevan, whom 
public opinion once more designated to the king, as a suit- 
able and popular minister. This man was the architect 



MINISTRY OF NECKER. 



93 



of his own fortune, and had amassed vast wealth by his 
abilities as a financier. He was a discijale of the school 
of Colbert. He had published several financial w^orks, 
which contributed to the iDopular idea that he possessed 
talents eminently adapted to retrieve the falling fortunes 
of the king, and of the state. 

iSTor were these expectations disappointed. By his first 
measures Necker reestablished order in the finances. He 
paid off the heavy debts contracted by the American w^ar. 
He discovered unexpected financial resources. He re- 
vived public credit. But he could not remove the im- 
mense mountains of disabihties and sufferings which 
crushed the French peoi^le, without introducing exten- 
sive reforms, which touched the interests and the abuses 
of the higher orders. This he at length attempted to do, 
and the consequence was, that they obtained his removal, 
as they had done that of Turgot and Mauripas before 
him. 

Louis next chose for his prime minister M. Calonne. 
This man was clever, fertile in resources, confident in his 
genius, and in his measures, making great promises, en- 
couraging brilHant hopes, cheering the desponding, and 
laughing at the difficulties which surrounded the state. 
His vigorous measures for a time seemed likely to remove 
the most dangerous of the impendmg evils, and threw a 
brighter gleam of hope over the dark and clouded sky 
which then lowered on every side. To all the demands of 
the queen, he said : " If what your majesty asks is possi- 
ble, it is done ; if it is impossible, it shall be done." But 
nothing of -real value could be accomplished without the 
consent of the privileged orders. The only way to re- 



94 MINISTRY OF CALONNE. 

move the financial embarrassment of the nation was — not 
to impose new taxes on the people, for they would not 
endure it ; nor to enlarge in any way the expenses of the 
government, for the treasury Could not afford it ; but to 
extend the taxes to a greater number of persons, that is, 
to the nobility and clergy, who, possessing one-half of the 
whole wealth of the kingdom, were still exempt from all 
taxation. 

The year 1788 commenced with open hostilities be- 
tween the misguided kuig, and his parUament. The par- 
liament passed a decree, abohshing the lettres-de-cachet y 
and demanding the recall of exiled persons. The king 
canceled this decree. The parUament reestabhshed it. 
The king then determined to attempt, iq effect, the aboli- 
tion of the parhaments, by taking away their power of 
judging without an appeal; by withdrawing their right to 
register laws and edicts ; and thus to annihilate their po- 
litical influence and importance. 

The king next resolved upon a measure, which, while it 
shows his good intentions, also clearly illustrates how 
poorly men can foresee the end from the beginning, and 
how often the very measures which they adopt for their 
own advantage and protection, result ia their ultimate in- 
jury and ruin. To conquer the opposition of the court 
to every wise measure of reform, Louis determined to 
appeal to the tiers etat, (the third estate,) and to summon 
a convocation of the " states-general." The consequence 
tlms conferred by the king himself upon the popular 
voice, afterward became the engine of his destruction, 
when the people became perverted by the influence of 
their corrupt and frantic leaders. 



LOUIS SUMMONS THE STATES-GENERAL. 95 

The king ordained that the states-general should con- 
sist of one thousand members ; that the representation 
should be in proportion to the population, and to the 
taxes paid in each haillage; and that the number of the 
deputies of the tiers etat^ should be equal to that of the 
other two orders of the state combined. 

This decree of the king at once threw France into an 
uitense state of political commotion. Then arose that 
spirit of popular declamation and discussion, which soon 
became the general order of the day, and the disgrace of 
the nation. Inunediately assemblies were collected every- 
where throughout France, in which the most intemperate 
and excited minds raved on the subject of the existing 
abuses; on the outrages of the court and the nobiUty; 
and on the immortal blessings of Hberty. Then arose 
that spirit of Jacobinism, so disgraceful in its character, 
and so ruinous in its effects to France. Nothing now be- 
gan to be heard, but the bowlings of insane demagogues, 
who, under pretense of inquiries into the state of the 
country, the necessary provisions of a new constitution. 
and the reforms which were to be effected, began to 
threaten the overthrow of aU the existing institutions of 
society. They traduced the church. They cursed the 
priesthood. They denounced the aristocracy. They re- 
viled the court. They threatened the popular vengeance 
on all dignities, civil, ecclesiastical, and even military. 
France must be disenthralled and redeemed. AU the lib- 
eral professions must be abandoned. AU the nobler arts 
of life, and the pursuits of Uterature and philosophy, 
must be renounced. AU pensions must be abolished. AU 
the prerogatives and appointments formerly appendant to 



96 RISE OF MODERN DEMAGOG-UES. 

the crown, must be suppressed. The most necessary 
taxes must be reduced. The minister of the king was 
burned in effigy. The masses were inflamed by the ha- 
rangues at the pojDular clubs, and in the dens of the dem- 
agogues, by those desperate and ruined men, who, having 
nothing to lose by any change, however unfortunate, 
might perhaps gain by any event, however disastrous. 
The affrighted king already saw the arms which he had 
unwisely placed in the hands of the people turned to his 
own destruction, and that of his throne. 

Even nature seemed to conspire, at this most unpropi- 
tious moment, to increase the general discontent, and re- 
double the unpopularity of the unhappy sovereign. On 
the 15th of July, 1789, a furious hail-storm, such as had 
never before visited the vine-clad hills of France, de- 
stroyed the iH'oduce of the earth. The consequence was, 
that the inhabitants of Paris were threatened with star- 
vation, fi-om the scarcity and the high prices of provisions. 
Riots occurred eveiywhere. Vast multitudes of vaga- 
bonds without any resources, or any regular pursuit, 
ranged abroad throughout France, and excited the popu- 
lar frenzy. Some unfortunate speculations of the nobility 
in grain, by which they monopolized a large amount of 
it, increased the evil, and drove these wretches to mad- 
ness. They threatened the palace of the king at Ver- 
sailles. They convulsed Paris with their commotions. 
The bakers' shops were piUaged. A desperate and aban- 
doned woman brought some damaged flour to the pal- 
ace, forced herself into the presence of Maria Antoinette, 
exhibited the most insane fury, and even threatened vio^ 
lence to her person. 



THE STATES-GENERAL ELECTED. 97 

Such was everywhere the state of the nation, when the 
elections for the states-general took place. It may easily 
be imagined what scenes of violence, extravagance, and in- 
sanity would be presented by an excited populace, and 
especially by an excited French populace, under such pe- 
culiar circumstances. The elections everywhere were 
active, and in most places noisy and tumultuous. 

The states-general were now about to assemble. It 
may be supposed that the newly chosen representa- 
tives of the people would be pledged by their previous 
career, and by their principles, to oppose the court, to de- 
nounce the king and the nobihty, and to labor for the 
establishment of universal liberty and equality. Who 
composed this memorable assemblage? Provincial law- 
yers of no practice ; hterary men who had long starved 
on the humble pittance which men of letters generally 
receive in return for the produce of their brains ; trades- 
men who had failed in business, and who had no connec- 
tions to retain them at home ; play-actors, gamblers, and 
debauchees of every class and grade, for the first time 
found themselves incorporated into a dehberative assem- 
bly, by a great nation, uavested with important powers 
and prerogatives, without any moral power to overawe 
or to moderate them. They resembled an assemblage of 
cMdren placed in an apartment filled with the most deK- 
cate and valuable macliinery, which they had the privilege 
of handling- and altering ; but which they were soon ut- 
terly to ruLi and destroy. 

The most important circumstance connected with these 
initiatory events, was the election of the count de Mwor 
beau. He had been already rejected by the nobility, the 
E 7 



98 ITS FIRST ASSEMBLAGE. 

order to which he belonged. He was then supported by 
the tiers etat. He canvassed Provence, his native coun- 
try ; succeeded in being elected, as the fruit of infinite la- 
bors ; and was enrolled among the immortal representa- 
tives of the people. At length the moment of the assem- 
bling of this extraordinary body had arrived. The open- 
ing scene of this most memorable epoch in modern histo- 
ry is about to take place. France is now to speak to all 
ages and to all countries, through her assembled, repre- 
sentatives. The curtain is about to rise, and a drama to 
begin, the incidents of which present a strange mixture 
of sublimity and of terror. 

It cannot be disguised that France and even Europe, 
looked on this assembly of the states-general with solemn 
awe and interest. The external forms which were ob- 
served were not unworthy of the occasion, and were cal- 
culated to heighten the efiect produced. The opening ses- 
sion occurred on the 4th of May, 1789. A solemn pro- 
cession took place to the ancient and majestic cathedral 
of ISTotre-Dame. There have been few spectacles more 
imposing to the eye, or more impressive to the senses, 
than that which then occurred. The place itself in which 
th)5 august scene was enacted, was appropriate to the oc- 
casion, and inspired the mind with emotions of reverence 
and sublimity. It was the most ancient and the most il- 
lustrious temple in France. It was a Gothic cathedral, 
in which the majesty of human genius sat enthroned .in 
its lofty aisles, its stupendous arches, and in the brilliant 
splendors of the high altar. It was the venerable edifice 
in which twenty kings, of generations long since passed 
away, had been crowned. It was the church which had 



THE jeROCESSION TO NOTRE DAME. 99 

echoed with the eloquent voice of Bossuet ; whose lofty 
arches had resounded with the sublime pathos of MassiUon. 
Those silent walls had mtnessed the imposing ceremonies 
which attended the baptisms, the coronations, and the 
funerals of mighty sovereigns, long since crumbled to their 
kindred dust, of Henry IV., of Louis X., of Francis I., and • 
of Louis XIV. The imj^osing procession was headed by 
the king and queen, immediately followed by the court. 
ISText came the two higher orders, the nobility, splendidly 
dressed, glittering with gold and diamonds ; and the 
superior clergy, attired in their magnificent vestments. 
Princes, peers, and generals were clothed m purple, and 
wore hats adorned with nodding plumes. The represen- 
tatives of the people came next. They wore the plain 
black suits of genteel citizens ; and it was observed by 
the keen eye of a contemporary, that though unassuming 
in their dress, their countenances seemed resolute, detei'- 
mined, and indicated the consciousness of untried power. 
It was remarked too, that the duke of Orleans, [Egalite,) 
though walking in the rear of the nobility, chose to loiter 
so far behind as to become mixed with the foremost depu- 
ties of the tiers etat. The streets were hung with tapes- 
try belonging to the crown. The regiments of the 
French and Swiss guards formed a line from St. Louis to 
Notre-Dame. An immense concourse of citizens looked 
on ia respectful silence. The windows were filled with 
spectators of aU ages, and adorned by the presence of 
beautiful women. Bands of music placed at intervals, 
filled the air mth martial and melodious sounds. 

On the arrival of the procession at Notre-Dame, the 
three orders seated themselves on benches placed in the 



100 THE OPENING SERMON. 

nave. TRie king and queen took their places beneath a 
canopy of purple, spangled with golden J^eMrs-d'e-^^s. The 
royal family, and the great officers of the crown, occupied 
seats near the throne. Impressive and solemn music re- 
verberated through the lofty arches of the ancient pile in 
which they were assembled, fiUing the countless multi- 
tude, wliich crowded every nook and avenue, with rever- 
ence and awe. 

The ceremonies began by a sermon from the bishop of 
Nantz. His discourse was appropriate to the memora- 
ble occasion. "Religion," said he, "constitutes the great- 
est strength of empires. It alone confers stability upon 
thrones. It alone secures the prosperity of nations." 
Next followed a written address from the king. He re- 
commended disiaterestedness and prudence to the as- 
sembly ; and declared the purity and benevolence of his 
own iutentions. Barentin, the keeper of the great seal, 
then spoke. He was foHowed by Necker, the minister ; 
who read a memorial on the state of the kingdom and the 
disorder of the finances. He declared that there was a 
deficiency in the treasury of fifty-six millions. 

Had any observer who possessed the eye of omnis- 
cience, then surveyed that vast assembly, and been able to 
foresee the portentous future, what iudescribable sensa- 
tions would he not have experienced ! He would have 
seen that king and queen, then radiant with splendor and 
majesty, cruelly executed on the scaffold, and covered 
with blood. He would have numbered out, among the 
deputies there assembled, the hundreds who, after passing 
through immense struggles, would end their days in de- 
spair and ignominy by the knife of the guillotine. He 



THE AUDIENCE. 101 

would there have seen amid that crowd a maa, small in stat- 
ure, nervous, and insignificant; who afterward obtained 
possession of a terrible power, and wielded it to the de- 
struction and ruin of his native land and of his race — the 
restless, furious, and bloody Robespierre. Perhaps, too, 
among that mighty throng he might have discerned an- 
other looker-on, then equally insignificant in his person, 
and still more obscure in his position ; but whose genius 
and grandeur in after years, overshadowed the world; 
who afterward himself secured and wore the very crown 
which on that imposing day adorned the head of the 
heii" of the haughty Bourbons ; and who at length, after 
being the hero of a hundred battles, died in solitude on 
a remote and rock-bound island of the ocean. He might 
there have seen the diminutive figure, the pale face, and 
the eagle eye of Napoleon Bonaparte^ then poor and 
friendless ; but indulging in high, dauntless, and aspiring 
hoj)es. And among the many fair women, who graced 
that scene with their fascinating smiles, he might have 
noted Madam Beauharn.ds, who was also reserved for 
a remarkable and memorable fate, exceeding in romance 
and interest that of any other woman of modern times ; 
whose chaste and seductive charms afterward won the 
affections of the man of iron wiU, and stupendous genius, 
with whom she shared that throne. Such were the inci- 
dents connected with the first meeting of the states-gen- 
eral of France, under Louis XVI. Storms were lowering 
in the political heavens. But as yet there had been no 
violent outbreaks, no demonstrations of popular ftiry, 
which indicated the horrible extremes which were soon 
to ensue. So far, all had been decorous and dignified, 



102 DEMANDS OF THE TIERS ETAT. 

suclx B,i became the sovereign and the representatives of a 
great and cultivated people, assembled under ancient 
forms, and with imposing ceremonies, to deliberate on 
measures promotive of the common good. 

But difficulties and disturbances soon began to exist, 
between the tiers etat, who now arrogated to themselves 
the title of Commons — a name unheard of tiU then, in 
French history — and the other two orders, who constitu- 
ted the states-general. 

The commons assembled with a determination that the 
nobility and clergy should sit with them, in the same 
body ; that they should proceed together to examine the 
credentials of the representatives of each order ; and 
thus, in conjunction, should perform the task of legislation 
and reform. 

The object of this arrangement was to give the com- 
mons the advantage of their superior numbers, in the 
votes to be cast. The other two orders discovered the 
trick, and refused to acquiesce in the arrangement. The 
latter remained in their own hall, determined not to 
yield. The commons sent frequent messages to the clergy 
and nobility, urging their acquiescence. They asked the 
clergy ia the " name of the God of Peace^'' to submit to 
a measure which they thought necessary to the welfare 
and prosperity of the country. Bailly, the president of 
the conxmons, waited on the king to urge his interposi- 
tion. The king declined interfering in the struggle be- 
tween the several orders. Neither party seemed dis- 
posed to give way. Mirabeau, for the first time, then 
addressed the assembly, and displayed that impressive 
and powerful eloquence which on many subsequent and 



THE TITLE ADOPTED. 103 

iiiemorable occasions startled and arovised the nation, 
and eventually shook the throne to its center. He rose 
and said " that any plan of conciUation rejected by one 
4)arty, could no longer be examined by another. A month 
was now passed and nothhig had been done." The as- 
sembly then proceeded to a separate verification of creden- 
tials, and thus forever separated itself, in feeUng, in inter- 
est, and in action, from the other great orders of the 
state. 

The next question to be decided by the assembly was, 
the name to be used by the representatives of the people. 
Mounier suggested that of the " deliberative majority in 
the absence of the nmiority." A better cognomen stiU 
was that proposed byMirabeau: "The representatives 
of the French people." The proposition of Legrand, 
was the one at last agreed upon, that of the National 
Assembly. 

The nobility and clergy were now alarmed at the bold- 
ness and resolution exhibited by the tiers etat. They had 
not expected such a display on the part of people, who 
never before, in the history of the French nation, pos- 
sessed the least right to exercise legislative and politi- 
cal authority. Necker, the minister, alone of those about 
the king was attached to the popular cause. But the 
court succeeded in resisting the plans of reconciliation 
which he laid before the monarch. At length the latter 
determined to hold a royal sitting, in which the depu- 
ties of the three orders were to assemble together, in 
ttie presence of the king. The meeting was held ; but 
the freedom of speech was overawed by the presence 
of soldiery. The sitting had none of the dignity and 



104 MISPLACED DECISION OF THE KING. 

grandeur of the preceding one, which had been held on 
the fourth of May. The king made an address, in which 
he used violent expressions, oifensive to the commons. 
He delared the inviolability of all feudal rights, both the 
useful and the honorary. He even indulged in reproaches 
against the tiers etat. He commanded the separate sit- 
tings of the orders; thus aiming a blow at the favorite 
measure of the commons. He ordered their obedience 
and their acquiescence to such measures as he, his mmis- 
ters, and his court should ordain. 

In this instance, Louis XVI. exhibited the peculiar 
weakness of his character. He had nothing in view but 
the interests of his subjects. This he had clearly shown 
on various occasions. Pie was himself not a luxurious, 
not a tyrannical, not an extravagant, nor a lavish prince. 
He had not a single vice of his o-^vn. But he was unhap- 
pily the tool of the worst vices of other men. In this in- 
stance he was persuaded, by his selfish and unprincipled 
court, that the most determined and resolute measures 
alone were desirable at this crisis; and he accordingly 
used them. The effect was just what might have been 
expected. The commons were deeply incensed. The 
breach was made wider than before ; the evU was only 
aggravated. The nobility and clergy withdrew from the 
hall after the conclusion of the king's address. The com- 
mons remained. Mirabeau made a rude and offensive al- 
lusion to the address of the king, whose suggestions were 
considered by the assembly as tyrannical and impertinent. 
A subsequent offer by the higher orders to unite with the 
commons, coming as it did with very bad grace, and pro- 
duced by the effect of necessity and of apprehension on 



^ THE NEW CONSTITUTION. 105 

their part, was not calculated to allay the existing bad 
feeling. This was the first measure of oj^cn hostility aiid 
contradiction, between the national assembly and tlie 
king and court, which had occurred ; and it was but a 
prelude to greater ones. 

The next great question which was presented for the 
consideration of the assembly, was the establishment of 
a new constitution for the French people. The constitu- 
tion agreed upon by that sage assemblage, after protracted 
and violent deliberations, comprised among others the 
following principles: That the nation makes all laws, 
with the royal sanction ; that the national consent is 
necessary for loans and taxes ; that taxes can be granted 
only for the period from one convocation of the states- 
general till another ; that property and individual liberty 
shall be sacred ; and that the person of the king shall be 
sacred and inviolable. 

While the deliberations of the assembly were progress- 
ing, the king, Hstening to the slanders of the court, dis- 
missed Necker from the ministry. This measure was ia- 
judicious, and filled the raving multitude with fury. For 
the first time in the history of tliis memorable revolution, 
the streets of Paris resounded with the cry " to arms ! " 
and the enraged rabble poured Hke a flood though the 
thoroughfares of the capital. The citizens of the higher 
class assembled, to protect themselves against the attacks 
both of the populace, and of the royal troops. This was 
the primary origin of the National G-uards. After vari- 
ous conflicts in the streets between the rioters and the 
defenders of order, a temporary quiet was obtained. 
The fury of the rabble, '.ar the present, had spent itself 
E* 



106 THE BASTILLE. 

The troops which the king had stationed in the Chanipi 
des Mars^ were withdrawn. And yet, the pervading 
quiet was but a lull in the storm, which was only accumu- 
lating, by repose, intenser elements of explosion. 

It was now evident to every one who observed the 
state of feeling in Paris, the great center of excitement 
and of action thoughout France, that the disaffected 
multitudes who crowded the purlieus and the dens of the 
capital, having tasted once the sweets of excitement and 
hcense, like the beast of prey which has caught the scent 
of blood, would not henceforth relapse into their accus- 
tomed quiet and apathy. For some days idle and noisy 
crowds had thronged about the Bastille. This was a 
memorable edifice, and calculated from its remarkable his- 
tory and the excitmg scenes connected with it, to attract 
around it the growing vengeance of the new masters of 
France — the rabble. Gradually the novel shout, " To the 
Bastille ! to the BastiUe ! " resounded through Paxis. 
The destruction of this ancient fortress of despotism had 
been alluded to already in some of the dehberations of 
the national assembly. The populace yielding to the 
hereditary vengeance with which they regarded that worst 
adjunct and most offensive appendage of past and present 
despotism, determined on its immediate destruction. 

But arms were entirely wanting to accomplish this de- 
sirable end. The Bastille was a fortress Of vast strength, 
whose origin was traced back to the eighth century, and 
which had been carefully fortified by the fears and the 
jealousy of many succeeding sovereigns. It was no easy 
^ask to scale its stujDendous and lofty battlements ; to dis- 
mantle its strong towers ; to demolish its thick and mos 



THE ATTACK ON THE BASTILLE. 107 

sive walls ; within which the cells were built, where the 
unhappy victims of despotism during so many ages had 
worn away in solitude, in gloom, and ia despair, the 
cheerless years of their existence. But the populace were 
determined on its destruction. It was rumored that arms 
were to be had at the Hotel de Ville. The crowds rushed 
thither and carried off the cannon, and a great quantity 
of muskets. An immense concourse of people then 
crowded around the BastUle. The commandant of the 
fortress, Delaunay, had determiaed on a vigorous and 
desperate defense. But the number of men who manned 
it were few and feeble. It contained but thirty-two Swiss, 
and eighty-three Invahdes. A fresh mob arrived to the 
assistance of those already assembled aroimd the buildmg. 
The garrison summoned the assailants to retire. They 
refused, and began to press onward to the attack. Two 
men mounted the roof of the guard-house, and broke 
with axes the chains which susj)ended the draw-bridge. 
It fell down and the crowd rushed upon it. They were 
met and arrested by a discharge of musketry. The 
crowd for a moment halted, returned the fire, and then 
rushed onward. A dej)utation at this moment arrived 
fi-om the king, ordering the commandant to admit a de- 
tachment of the Paris militia within the fortress. This 
did not satisfy the insm-gents. The mob rushed forward 
to set fire to the building. The garrison discharged 
one of the cannon which were mounted on the battle- 
ments, and this fire was returned by the crowd with the 
pieces which they had brought with them. 

Meanwhile the excitement became intense thi'oughout 
Paris. The tocsin pealed solemnly and continually. The 



108 THE GARRISOlSr CAPITULATES. 

di'ums beat the generah. The increasing multitude 
flowed on through every street, screaming, roaring, and 
raging. The faubourg St. Antoine, with its countless 
masses of ragged and desperate wretches, seemed march- 
ing on the Bastille as one man. The infinite hum of an- 
gry voices swelled upon the breeze as they advanced. 
It was a sublime though terrible spectacle. Never be- 
fore had such a scene been presented in the history oi 
man. 

The attack was beginning at length to make an im- 
pression on the small and feeble garrison. But Delaunay 
was a man of heroic and determined courage. He was re- 
solved that this ancient fortress should never yield to the 
attack of an irregular and ragged mob. He seized a 
lighted match, with the intention of setting fire to the 
magazine and blowing up the fortress. But the^rest of 
the garrison were not quite as heroic as himself, and were 
not willing to share the desperate fate of the commandant. 
They prevented his pm-pose ; obliged him to capitulate ; 
and the signal of surrender was made. The crowds 
rushed in and took tumultuous possession of all the 
courts ; threw open the cells and let in the cheering light 
of day, upon many a gloomy abode of hopeless sorrow 
and despair. Then were thrown open and exposed to 
the unutterable horror of men, the instruments of toi'- 
ture and vengeance which had long been the scourge of 
France, and the execration of mankind. Within those 
walls nine feet thick, those torture-chambers, and those 
dark and damp cells, what terrible cruelties had been perpe- 
trated, during many generations ! Let us pause for a mo- 
ment and consider this matter. There, within those cells, 



THE DEMOLITION OF THE BASTILLE, 109 

youth and beauty in the prime of their splendor, had 
often been immolated to jealousy and hatred. There had 
noble manhood pmed away an existence, far worse than 
death itself, without any hope for the tlitiu-e, or any joy 
in the present. There had perished the countless vic- 
tims of the cruelty, lust, and jealousy of Richelieu, of Ma- 
zarin, of De Ritz, of Pompadour, of Catherine de Med- 
ici, of Louis XIY., and of the many other besotted and 
infamous tyrants, who at different times had swayed the 
destinies of France ; had expended her treasures in hcen- 
tious luxury ; and had made the ruin of others subservi- 
ent to their own ends. All this was now to be no more. 
The victims of absolute power were no longer to pine 
away beneath its destructive blight. The prisoners who 
then inhabited those cells came forth — horrid specimens of 
blasted humanity, frantic with joy, and as terrible in then- 
present exultation, as in their former woe. The mob struck 
off the head of Delaunay, the commandant, and rushed 
vsdth it and with the keys of the Bastille, to the Hotel de 
Ville, where the electors were assembled. The latter 
sent a deputation to the king at Versailles, informing 
him of the events which had just taken place. The king 
immediately resolved to go the next morning to the na- 
tional assembly, to consult with them on the perilous sit- 
uation of affairs. 

When the king entered the hall, it rang with applause. 
Jle came without guards and without attendants. His 
two brothers alone accompanied him. He made a simple 
and touching address, which excited the enthusiasm of the 
assembly. For the first time he called it by the title it 
had arrogated to itself — the national assembly. The 



110 RECALL OF NECKER. 

deputies, when the address was ended, escorted him on 
foot to the pal'ace. The queen beheld the approaching 
crowd from a balcony, holding her son, the dauphin, 
in her arms.. She was cheered with enth-asiasm. It 
seemed, indeed, as if a reconciliation had at length been 
made between the alienated powers of the state ; be- 
tween the heir of royalty, and the zealous representa- 
tives of the French people. It was but a passing gleam 
of sunshine, which illumined for a moment a vast hemis- 
phere of lowering storms and destructive tempests. 

General La Fayette, but recently returned from his 
American expedition, was appointed governor of Paris ; 
and the king himself resolved to go thither, and take 
up his residence in the capital, as a safer and more ap- 
propriate asylum amid the existing troubles. He was 
honorably received on his approach by BaiUy, at the head 
of the mmiicipal authorities, at the gates of Paris ; who 
presented him the keys. He passed on to the Hotel de 
Ville., He there made another simple and 'touching ad- 
dress to the multitude. His words were received with 
applause. The monarch seemed again to have secured a 
reconcihation with Pai'is, just as he had already done 
Avith the national assembly. He heightened the popular 
enthusiasm in his favor, at this moment, by announcing 
his determination to recall Necker to the ministry. An 
express was immediately sent by the kiiig to Basle, to an 
nounce to the exiled minister, at once his recall to power, 
and the disgrace and banishment of his opponents, the 
PoUgnac faction. ISTecker immediately set out for Paris ; 
and his journey through this land of his adoption was one 
constant series of triumphs and congratulations. 



ACTS PASSED BY THE ASSEMBLY. m 

Meanwhile the national assembly proceeded with its 
discussions on the provisions of the new constitution. 
The first great object of their hostility was the feudal 
privileges, which had, for so many ages, been the curse 
and bane of Fra,nce. After long deliberation, the assem- 
bly resolved upon the following fundamental principles 
as the future basis of French government, and French 
liberty : That the quality of serf should be forever abol- 
ished ; that all seiguorial distinctions should be removed ; 
that exclusive rights to keep game, to hunt, to have dove- 
cotes and warrens, and all tithes should be abolished; 
that aU taxes should be equalized ; that all citizens should 
be admitted to civil and mihtary employments ; that the 
sale of offices and pensions without claims should also 
be abolished. These important and wise decrees were 
presented to the kuig, ia the new constitution, for his ac- 
ceptance and ratification. His answer was a simple ac- 
ceptance, with a promise " to promulgate," He did not 
in form approve of them. He reseiwed his final judg- 
ment upon the points or decrees already submitted to him, 
until the whole constitution had been agreed upon by the 
assembly. 

This partial refusal of Louis to acquiesce in whatever 
the representatives of the people might requii-e of him, 
filled that excitable assembly with rage. All the good 
and conciliatory impression produced by the passages of 
friendship which had just occurred between the sovereign 
and his subjects were lost, and their influence wholly ef- 
faced by the irritating efiect of his hesitation to yield an 
impUcit and prompt obedience to their demands. 



] 12 BRIGHT SIDE OF THE REVOLUTION. 

So far, the objects and the results of the French revo- 
hition may be approved of by every rational observer, 
as commendable. The abolition of old abuses which had 
been decreed by the assembly, was a good measure. The 
destruction of the BastUle was a desirable one. And 
whatever else the revolution had effected, until this crisis, 
was on the whole, an improvement upon the past, and 
held forth portents of hope and prosj)erity for the future. 
But from this hour the darker side of the revolutionary 
picture begins to appear. From this hour Louis be- 
comes a persecuted, injured, outraged martyr to the in- 
sensate fury of an excited and misled assembly and na- 
tion. From this hour nothing but evil can be discerned 
in the principles asserted, in the measures adopted, and 
in the crimes committed by the revolution, its leaders, 
and its agents. We see from this jjeriod, a disposition 
displayed on the part of those who had risen unexpect- 
edly to the guidance of pubHc affau's, to run mto the worst 
excesses ; to overturn whatever was an appendage or a 
product of the past ; and to revel in the blood and ruin 
first of their sovereigns, then of their associates, and lastly 
of their comitry itself. The hopes wliich all wise and 
good men had entertained, and which many of them had 
expressed at the beginning of the revolution, now began 
to be disappointed. They no longer praised and com- 
mended this great moving of the popular mind. They 
saw in it henceforth nothing but injury, and that continu- 
ally, to all the political, social, and religious interests of the 
nation. 

The representatives of the people were now completely 
alienated from Louis XVI. and they sought everywhere 



FAULTS OF THE QUEEN. 113 

for grounds to justify the hostility which they had com- 
menced, and were determined to pursue. 

Unfortunately, the members of his own family fui*nished 
causes of offense to these captious observers. The con- 
duct and character of Maria Antoinette were by no means 
as mi objectionable as that of her husband. As is generally 
the case, the few acts of indiscretion, perhaps of vice, 
which she committed were immensely magnified and per- 
verted; so that she soon lost all hold upon the popular 
reverence and respect. In the first place, she discarded 
all the ancient forms of etiquette, observed in the French 
court, whenever a whim led her so to do. She even vio- 
lated decorum, and afterward failed to conceal it. She 
frequently left the palace at all hours of the evening ; she 
would walk alone in the park ; she would carefully elude 
her husband's search after her, by sleeping out of her 
own chamber, in contempt of the established usages of 
the court. An ecclesiastic, respectable for his virtues, 
and his distinction as a physician, being sent for by her, he 
found her stretched out naked at full length, in her bath. 
The ecclesiastic modestly drew back ; but she summoned 
him to her side ; compelled him there to converse with 
her ; and to admire the beautiful symmetry of her person. 
It was in this attitude that she had her picture drawn, 
and exhibited even in a public display of works of art. 
Madame de NoaiUes reproved her for these indiscretions ; 
and in return the queen named her Madam d' Etiquette. 

The French people had learned to regard the queen as 
an Austrian, not as a French woman. The visit of her 
brother Joseph EC., emperor of Germany, to Paris, ia- 
creased the popular aversion to the house of Hapsburg. 



] 14 JOSEPH 11. VISITS PARIS. 

He penetrated into the manufactories, dock-yards, and 
ports. He made requests at Havre "whicli were directly 
promotive of his own maritime interests, to the prejudice 
of those of France. The merchants and artists thought 
that he visited France rather as a jealous spy than as an 
admiring guest. He traveled with his brother, the arch- 
duke Maximilian. When on a visit to Buffon, the nat- 
urahst, the author as a matter of courtesy offered him 
an expensive copy of his Natural History. The arch- 
duke very properly declined to deprive the author of it ; 
but Joseph n. immediately requested the work for him- 
self in so direct a manner, that courtesy forbade a refusal. 
On the whole, the visit of the brothers of the queen to 
her adopted country, produced an unfavorable impression 
upon a nation, whose suspicions and whose resentment 
were already aroused. 

After theu' departure, the position of Maria Antoinette 
became more friendless than before. Slanders more in- 
jurious and serious than the preceding ones, were circu- 
lated respecting her. She was directly accused, by popu- 
lar scandal, of admitting her lovers to her embraces. Of 
this number was Edward Dillon, termed the handsome ; 
M. De Cogni, and the Count d'Artois. " We made this 
discovery at cards," said a lady of the court, at the time 
it occurred ; " for the Count d'Artois trod on the toes, 
and piached Madam de B. in a moment of thoughtlessness, 
thinking it was Maria Antoinette." 

So publicly was the queen accused of depraved morals, 
that Madam de Marsan made serious representations on 
the subject to the king. She was accused of carrying on 
a secret connection with Madam Bertin, a famous procu. 



OllGIES OF THE TRIANON. 115 

ross of the capital, and likewise with M'dlles Wuimond, 
Reiiatid, and GentU. It was known, that aftey the king 
retired to rest, the queen in company with the Count d' 
Artois mixed with the suspicious crowd who promenaded 
at that hour on the terrace. Many persons came there 
from the palace all disguised — the queen among the 
rest. The degree of liberty there taken by the maskers, 
degenerated mto hcentiousness. Many of the young lib- 
ertines of the court were present; and on one occaeion, 
a handsome guard du corps dared to flatter himself -nth. 
hopes of the queen. He accosted her, and in a decipive 
manner said, " Madam forgive my boldness ; but either 
gratify me or die ! " The queen immediately rephed, 
" Neither, sir." She however had him followed ; and af- 
terward promoted his advancement,. 

The secret orgies at the small palace of the Trianon^ 
excited the apprehension of the king. Within the closed 
doors of this building the queen and her intunate friends 
amused themselves with various games. Some of them 
were not of the most dehcate or innocent nature. Op 
one occasion the party, after reading an account in Buflon 
of the loves of the stags, thought it would be very enter- 
taining "to represent those animals, ui dresses made of 
theii- skins. It is said that after the company had ranged 
about the recesses of the gardens in the singular costume 
of those animals, they thought it also entertaining to par- 
take of theii" pleasures ! 

The consequence of these indulgences may be easily 
conjectured. The queen was at length accused even of a 
love of variety. To the handsome Dillon, to Coigne, and 
to her other admirers, it was said M. de Fersen succeeded, 



116 DISTINGUISHED IMPOSTORS, 

who was able more suceessfiilly" than they, to fix and hold 
her volatile aifections. She spared no expense m her 
pleasures. For her private establishment she yearly spent 
four millions six hundred thousand Uvi'es. Trianon cost 
the nation seventy-two thousand hvres ; and the palace 
of St. Cloud cost four hundred thousand. 

There were other disreputable transactions of the court 
which about this period increased the contempt and dis- 
satisfaction of the French nation, and helped among Other 
causes, to produce the destruction of the government and 
the triumph of the revolutionary agitators. 

The period of which we speak was also the age of em- 
pirics and impostors. The names and exploits of Caghos- 
■ tro, of Mesmer, of St. Germain, and of Bleton, now occur ; 
all celebrated masters in the arts of imposition, of solemn 
and mysterious humbug. YTe find in the records of that 
period, materials and events which prove that then it was, 
that the impostures of modern spiritual rappers and me- 
diums were first practiced, in precisely the same way, 
and for the same results, as they are in the present day. 
Unhappily for Louis XVI. some of his own family became 
the despised victims of the impostures of these wretches. 
Count Cagliostro enabled Cardinal Rohan to sup with the 
deceased D''Alembert, with the king of Prussia, and with 
Voltaire, aU dead some years before. He convinced his 
eminence, that the worker of these wonders had himself 
been present with Christ at the marriage in Cana of 
GaUilee. 

But still higher and nobler game was sought for by those 
shameless impostors, and the French nation were aston- 
ished and disgusted to hear that the duke of Orleans bad 



THEIR MYSTERIOUS TRICKS. ny 

become tbe dupe of one of the leading jugglers of the day. 
One day, on entering his hbrary, he there found a man 
awaiting him, of austere and remarkable countenance ; 
who told him that he could raise the prince of darkness, 
and learn from him the mysteries of futurity. The duke 
acoe]3ted the offer of the magician, who required however 
that he should have courage to trust himself with the lat- 
ter in a pathless plain, alone, and at the dead hour of 
midnight. The duke acquiesced in each of these propo- 
sals, and went with the impostor to the center of a vast 
heath unattended, in a dark and stormy night. He over- 
game the terror which at first arose in his breast, at the 
sight of the numerous specters which surrounded him. 
After various admonitions and prophecies he gave the 
duke a ring. " Keep this carefully, " said the infernal 
spirit ; " as long as it remains in your possession, it will be 
a token of prosperity and happiness ; as soon as you lose 
it, your doom is sealed." The magician refused a purse 
of five hundred louis which the prince offered him on their 
safe return. When describing this incident to others 
the duke would open his breast, and exhibit the ring, 
carefully attached to his person. 

In these incidents we see the origin and the operation 
of the spiritual communications of the present day. In 
the triumphs of Cagiiostro, of Mesmer, and of St. Germain, 
which at this period were at their greatest height, we 
behold another instance of the uprooting of the firm and 
stable foundations of society in an excessive desire for 
novelties, and a restless itching after things new, mysteri- 
ous, and wonderful. The French were in tlie eager pur- 
suit of such novelties both in philosophy, theoretical and 



118 CARDINAL DE ROHAN. 

practical ; in religion, in moral opinions, in politics, and 
the organization of their government. While Mesmer 
declared that, with the point of his finger, he could direct 
the mysterious magnetic fluid to any part of the body, 
which was the seat of 'disease, and thus cure dropsy, the 
gout, palsy, deafness, blindness, and every other evil inci- 
dent to the human fi-ame ; so in the same way, and with 
the same degree of truth, did Voltaire and Hosseau pre- 
tend to teach mankind the true principles of religion ; 
and Murat and RohespieiTe assume to assert the excel- 
lence of their doctrines in support of political equahty, and 
of human freedom. 

Other untoward events cons})ired about this period to 
increase the unpopularity of the royal family, and to con- 
centrate its misfortunes upon the head of Louis XVI. 
Among these one of the most imjDortant, most mysterious, 
and most injurious, was the memorable affair of the diar 
mond necklace. It is difficult to obtain a clear and satis- 
factory accoimt of this mysterious event, which exerted so 
powerful.an influence on the destiny of France. We will 
however state its origin and its results. 

When Cardinal de Rohan, who belonged to one of the 
oldest and most illustrious families of the French nobility, 
was sent as minister fi-om Louis XV. to Vienna, he was 
requested to describe Maria Antoinette to one of his cor 
respondents at Paris. He drew rather an offensive pic- 
ture of the then youthful arch-duchess. By some acci- 
dent this unfavorable representation of the cardinal be- 
came known to her, and at once filled her mind with im 
placable hatred toward its author. Upon her arrival in 
France, Rohan attempted on various occasions, to regair. 



THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 119 

her good will. All his efforts were in vain. Previous to 
the death of Louis XV. Bohmer the crown jeweler, had 
prepared a magnificent diamond necklace of immense 
value, for Madam Du Barry, the kmg's favorite. That 
monarch's death diverted the expensive gift from its origi- 
nal destination, and left it upon the hands of the jeweler. 
Rohan heard of the jewel, and also heard tha.t Bohmer 
had desired to sell it to the queen, who declined to pur- 
chase it on account of its great value and immense price. A 
prostitute of the Palais Royal, named Lamoth, being in ne- 
cessitous circumstances, and being acquainted both with 
the cardinal and with his desire to secure the queen's favor, 
and even her embraces, conceived a ]Aot whereby to obtain 
the jewel, and to ruin the priest. She went to Bohmer 
and told him that the queen had changed her mind, and 
desired to purchase the necklace, stipulatmg only that 
she should pay at intervals, and that the whole transaction 
should be kept secret from the king. Bohmer agreed to 
these terms. She added that in support of her assuran- 
ces, she would present him with a letter from the queen, 
and that one of the first men of the court would wait upon 
him, and conclude the bargain. 

The cunning com-tesan next went to the cardinal. She 
told him that the queen would not only accord him her 
friendship, but even her more tender favors, on condition 
that he would present her with this diamond necklace. 
The cardinal consented to the bargam. He waited on 
Bohmer ; represented to' him that the queen wished the 
jewel ; that she had commissioned him to purchase it for 
her, stipulating that the first payment should be made in 
August ensuing. The price was to be foui-teen hundi'ed 



120 ADROITNESS OF LAMOTH. 

thousand livres — ^three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 
The jewel was then delivered to M'Ue Lamoth, to deliver 
it to Maria Antoinette. In the meantime the cardinal ex- 
pected his promised interview with the queen. The cun- 
ning of the prostitute did not fail her in this part of the 
intrigue. She informed the cardinal that Maria Antoi- 
nette had appointed to meet him in a remote spot of the 
gardens at Versailles ; that she would be dressed in white ; 
and that she would make herself known by presenting 
him with a white rose. She then selected one of her aban- 
doned associates, whose person and gait somewhat re- 
sembled that of the queen, who, at the time and place ap- 
pointed, appeared in the partial darkness ; gave him the 
rose ; allowed him to kiss her hand ; and then, an alarm 
being purposely made, commanded him hastily to retire. 
The day for payment at length arrived. The expected 
money did not come ; nor did the queen, the supposed 
debtor to Bohmer, make any apology or explanation for 
her neglect. Bohmer sent a message to the queen, desu-ing 
to know why the first payment had not been made. She 
was thunderstruck. It was the first intimation which she 
had received of the matter. Bohmer was sent for. Among 
othei proofs, he produced a letter from the cardinal, sta- 
ting that the necklace had been duly delivered to the 
queen. After arranging all her.information respecting the 
matter, she communicated it to the king. The cardinal, 
who was then at the palace as grand ahnoner, was sent 
for at midnight, into the idng's cabinet, where the queen 
awaited him. The king demanded to know whether he 
had recently purchased any jewels of Bohmer. The car- 
dinal answered that he had, and he thought that they had 



EFFECT OF THE INTRIGUE, 121 

been delivered to the queen. The king asked who em- 
ployed him in that commission? He rej)lied, a lady 
whom he believed to be connected with the coiirt, named 
Lamoth. The cardinal then said, that he plainly per- 
ceived he had been imposed upon. He was so much over- 
come with terror, that he was compelled to lean upon the 
table for support. The king then ordered him to with- 
draw ; and he was arrested on leaving the palace. Md'lle 
Lamoth was also imprisoned, but she had sent the jewels 
composing the necklace already to England, and they 
were then beyond the reach of recovery. She at first de- 
nied all knowledge of the affair ; and directed the king 
to inquire of Cagliostro, the famous impostor. The car- 
dinal was afterward tried, and honorably acquitted, La- 
moth was execxxted, after being scourged. Cagliostro was 
at firs'u arrested; and then banished from the French 
territory. 

Such was the end of this lamentable intrigue. But the 
impression produced at that time against the queen, and 
against Louis XVI., by its unfortimate occurrence, was 
very powerful. The French people thought that the vir- 
tue of Maria Antoinette must be very questionable indeed 
among those who knew her best, if a false appointment, 
or if even the pretense of a pretended assignation, could 
be made for her for such a purpose. But whether true 
or false, whether innocent or guilty, the j)erverse and ex- 
cited minds of the nation were determined to put the 
worst jDOSsible construction upon the conduct of the probar 
bly innocent and unconscious queen. Nor was this inju- 
rious impression afterward removed, r^ even weakened, 

F 



122 INCREASING DIFFICULTIES. 

by a decree of the national assembly exculpating her from 
aU blame. 

It was at this period in the progress of the revolution; 
that the king said one day to M. Necker, who had been 
recalled to the ministry, " For several years I have only 
enjoyed a few motnents of happiness^'' Necker rephed, 
" Yet a httle whUe, sire, and you will feel differently ; 
all will yet end well," Vain and delusive hope ! Ever 
since the refusal of Louis XVI. to apj^rove without re- 
serve aU those articles of the new constitution which had 
been determined upon by the national assembly, and sent 
to him for his acceptance, his fate seemed to be inevita- 
bly and unalterably sealed. The discussions which imme- 
diately ensued upon his reftisal being reported to the 
assembly, first called out into prominence three men 
who afterward became notorious and infamous, on the 
bloody and tmnultuous stage of the revolution — ^Robes- 
pierre, Mirabeau, and Danton. The first of these declared 
with a violence which, for the first time, attracted to him 
the attention of the whole assembly, that it was not the 
province or the prerogative of the king to criticise the 
decisions of the assembly. 

WhUe the assembly was distracted from day to day, 
by the most "violent discussions — the particulars of which 
are not pertinent to this history — the crowds of Paris were 
incensed against the court and mhiistry, in consequence 
of the scarcity of provisions. A deputation of incensed 
and frantic women forced their way into the presence of 
Louis, and laid before him their complaints and their 
grievances. He received them kindly, as it ever was his 
custom to do ; and by the mildness and moderation of his 



TRIUMPH OF MIRABEAU. i23 

manner disarmed their fiiry. Women, if properly ad- 
dressed, generally listen to reason, and feel the influence 
of softening emotions. They retired, appeased by the re- 
ception which they had received. He ordered the mu- 
nicipal authorities to distribute bread among this crowd, 
who seemed to be in absolute want of it. For some rea- 
son, however, his order was not comphed with, and the 
odium of this neglect rested on the kiag alone. 

The royal family had now taken up their residence in 
Paris, in the palace of the Tuilleries, which had not been 
inhabited for a century. A guard of %lae Parisian militia 
was placed around it, commanded by Lafayette, who was 
thus made responsible for the person of the king. By 
this arrangement the whole appearance of the court was 
immediately changed. There was in effect no longer any 
court at aU. The aristocracy were excluded from the royal 
presence by the restraint under which the king was placed. 
Prom that nour they considered him in reahty a prisoner ; 
and then commenced that process of emigration which 
deprived France of some of its noblest blood, whUe it se- 
cured many of them from the horrors of the guillotine, 
which overtook so many of their associates. 

From this moment the jDopular party in France may be 
regarded as triumphant. It was then under the guidance 
and control of Mirabeau, Barnave, Lamoth, and the duke 
of Orleans. While great numbers of the nobles were es- 
caping to Turin, and to Coblentz, the royal family be- 
came more and more deserted ; the number and ftiry of 
its enemies increased ; the audacity of the demagogues 
was elevated ; and it seemed an easier task and a richer 
sport to these unprincipled wretches, to play with the 



124 HE JOINS THE COURT PARTY. 

royal prerogatives, and to ruin the welfare and destroy tHe 
existence of the unhappy but illustrious family who were 
then at their mercy. 

It was at this period that Mirabeau, who, by his revo- 
lutionary eloquence had greatly contributed to sap the 
foundations of the trembling throne, seeing his ambition 
of popular supremacy thwarted and intercepted by other 
demagoges as aspiring, as violent, and as unprincipled as 
himself, bethought him of the project of standing as a 
mediator between the throne and the tribune, between 
the king and the assembly. The court first tampered with 
him by means of Malouet, an agent of Necker. He stipu- 
lated that his debts should be paid, and that he should 
have a place in the ministry. On these conditions be con- 
sented to espouse the cause of the king and the court ; 
to assert that the concessions in favor of Uberty which 
were already gained were sufficient ; and that it was now 
time to arrest the advancing tide of revolution and of 
change. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE TEREIBLE POWER OF EOBESPIEREE AND THE JACOBIN 
CLUB. 

Whest the period arrived for the dissolution of the na- 
tional assembly of France, in 1792, it had accompHshed 
far greater results than had ever been expected of it, 
Not even the most sanguine Jacobins of the day had an- 
ticipated that the representatives of the people would, in 
so short a time, so completely have degraded and debased 
the throne and aU its time-honored institutions, and that 
it would so thoroughly have estabhshed the reign of popu- 
lar prerogative and supremacy ui their stead. 

The new assembly which was about to convene as their 
successors, included among its members men whose names 
were then wholly unknown to fame, but whose talents 
soon placed them on an equahty in distinction, with any 
who had already figured in the national assembly. These 
were the deputies of jOia Gironde, a department of France 
which produced many celebrated statesmen, of whom Con- 
dorcet was the most profound and Vergniaud was the most 
eloquent. 

In addition to this change in the legislative assembly of 
France, another alteration had taken place in the political 
machuieiy of the country. The democratic clubs had now 
become omnipotent. The most remarkable and danger- 
ous of these, was that of the JocoMtis, so called from hold- 



126 RISE OF ROBESBIERRK 

Lng their meetings in the old suppressed monastery of the 
Jacobin monks. 

This building, whose form was that of an ampitheater, 
and was adnurably adapted to the purposes of popular elo- 
quence, having been appropriated to their own use by the 
oldest and largest of the political clubs in all France, the 
assemblage soon become the most violent, and the most 
terrible of its associates. 

It was at this period, (1792,) that the influence of Ro- 
bespierre first began to display its baleful supremacy ia 
the French capital. He was excluded from the new legis- 
lative assembly, by a decree of the national convention to 
the passage of which, he had himself contributed ; which 
forbade any of the members of the first representative 
body to be rechosen as members of the second. But he 
was now the most distinguished and able member of the 
JacobiQ club ; and it was through the proceedings of this 
club, that he first made his terrible power known and felt 
throughout France. 

After Mirabeau, Robespierre was the most extraordina- 
ry man produced by the revolution. It has long been the 
prevalent fashion to represent him as a person devoid of 
all talent, and as a mass of moral deformities, without one 
single redeemiag trait. This estimate of the blood-stained 
Jacobin, bad as he really was, is absurd in the extreme. 
There never lived in any age, an adventui*er who gave 
more xmanswerable proofs of the possession of great abili- 
ties. He possessed the very same order of talent for 
which Demosthenes himself is so justly celebrated: — that 
impetuous and powerful eloquence which could sway the 
turbulent passions of men ; which could control the feel- 



HIS RESEMBLANCE TO DEMOSTHENES. 127 

0igs and direct the resolutions of vast assemblies ; which 
could arouse, excite, alarm, and convince heterogeneous 
multitudes ; which could govern their stormy impulses, 
and make them subservient to the orator's purposes. Just 
as Demosthenes aroused the assembled Athenians against 
the aggressions of the crafty monarch of Macedon, by the 
clarion tones of his voice, as it reverberated around the 
Bema at Athens; so did Robespierre excite the Parisians 
who hstened to his impassioned words, against the an- 
cient throne of the Bourbons, and against the inoifensive 
king who sat upon it ; whom, with words as burning and 
as scathing as any which ever issued from the lips of 
Demosthenes, he denounced and stigmatized as a tyrant 
even worse than Philip of Macedon. Both of these ora- 
tors arose to power from utter obscurity. Both of them 
aimed their fury against already existing mstitutions. 
Both operated only upon the popular will, and used the 
masses as the obsequious instruments of their purposes. 
Both passed through great intellectual conflicts. Both 
employed but one single weapon — ^the tongue. Both were 
successful in accomphshing the object of their ambition. 
And both perished at last by a violent death. Such are 
the singular coincidences between the lives of these two 
I emarkable men. The only difference between theii- men- 
tal qualities ' is that, while Robespierre was the more un- 
bending, pertinacious, and penetrating genius of the two ; 
Demosthenes was the more massive, comprehensive, and 
immense. Robespierre was a suitable representative of 
the more attenuated intellectual and physical proportions 
of these latter ages. Demosthenes was a fit model of the 
larger intellectual and physical dimensions of those prime- 



128 EXTENT OF HIS ABILITIES. 

val times when giants lived ; when the race possessed its 
primitive grandeur and greatness, and before the artificial 
luxuries and pernicious usages of succeeding generations 
had reduced the proportions of the race, though they 
may have conferred more refinement and more cultiva- 
tion by the process. 

Robespierre had been an obscure attorney at Arras, the 
place of his birth. But many other men have passed 
their youths in obscurity, from the want of circumstances 
favorable to the development of greatness. Such was the 
case with Robespierre, His first efforts at eloquence hke 
those of the great man with whom we have just compared 
him, were total failures. His dehvery was awkward and 
heavy. But by dint of great perseverance and great reso- 
lution, he succeeded in acquiring such a mastery in this 
difficult and noble art, that he had no equal nor compet- 
itor even among the many talented men whom France 
at that time sent up to her national representation. If 
the great test of talent, or even of genius, is success in 
whatever men undertake, then was Robespierre gifted in- 
deed. His ability is proved by the fact that, whilst he 
enjoyed no advantages of birth or influence ; while he 
possessed even no external gifts of nature to recommend 
him to admiration, or to facilitate his progress toward 
power, he overcame every obstacle, and every deficiency ; 
and by the pure force of mind and of thought alone ac- 
quired a supremacy and wielded a scepter as absolute al- 
most as that of Napoleon himself. This was the man, 
whose obnoxious name and influence were now frequently 
brought to the notice of Louis, and of the court ; and who 
soon became their most unyielding and implacable enemy 



THE EMIGRA:STS and priests. 129 

The first question which engaged the attention of tho 
new assembly, was that of the emigrants. " Monsieur," 
the Mug's brother, had ah'eady left the kingdom. The 
assembly demanded of Louis that he would request his 
return, on joenalty of being deprived of the regency, 
should any event occur which would render the functions 
of a regent necessary. Loms XVI. addressed his brother 
a letter, requesting him earnestly to comj^ly with the de- 
mands of the legislature. That body also proclaimed 
certain penalties, and imposed certain disabilities, upon 
all other French citizens, who had passed beyond the terri- 
tory of their country, and who then refused to return. 

The constituent assembly also required the priesthood 
to take the civic oath. Those who refused to comply with 
this demand lost their character as ministers of j)ublic 
worship, paid by the state ; though they retained their 
professional position, and the liberty of exercising their 
functions in private. The legislative assembly now went 
a step further. They required the oath to be taken 
anew, and deprived those priests who refused so to do 
of all emoluments whatever, and forbade them to exer- 
cise their professional functions even in private; just as if 
an assemblage of debauched secular adventurers, could 
by any human possibility, de^Drive men of a spiritual char- 
acter, derived from a source infinitely higher than any 
human origin, or dispossess them of a spiritual function 
which they could neither give nor withdraw ! In conse- 
quence of the hostile feelings which had long existed be- 
tween the French nation and Austria, and which had been 
hourly increasing, the legislative assembly determined to 

declare war against that country, and compelled Loixis 
F* Q 



130 DECREES OF THE ASSEMBLY. 

to acquiesce in the unwelcome measure. As soon as the 
compliance of Louis XVI. with this proceeding became 
known, it revived for a short time, the small remains of 
regard for the perse.cuted monarch which existed ; and 
postponed for a time the final and ignominious scenes of 
his life. The assembly next compelled Louis to another 
ungrateful task. That was the dismissal of his ministry. 

The king's brothers who had emigrated, and to whom 
he made known the decree of the convention requiring 
their return, refused to comply with the demand. The 
convention then decreed them to be under accusation. 

The assembly next required Louis XVI. to call upon 
the princes of the Germanic empire not to allow the as- 
sembhng of emigrants in their territories. The king hav- 
ing performed this duty, was compelled to inform the as- 
sembly that he would declare war, if those princes disre- 
garded his intentions in favoring the revolution. The 
consequence of this step was, that Austria and Prussia en- 
tered into a treaty to quell the disturbances, as they 
justly called the revolutionary movement, in France. 

The assembly continued to attend to its supposed du- 
ties, and passed various decrees of more or less general 
interest. It resolved that the property of emigrants 
should be appropriated to pay the expenses of the im- 
pending war. It decreed the suppression of aU religious 
communities. It resolved on the suppression of all ecclesi- 
astical costumes. To finish this series of outrages, on 
May 29th, 1792, the national assembly constituted itself 
in permanent session. It immediately passed a decree 
ordaining the formation of a camp of twenty thousand 
troops near Paris, for the purpose of increasing their own 



RISE OF DUMOURIEZ. 



131 



absolute control over the capital, and overawing the court 
and king. 

The old ministry having been dismissed, it was neces- 
sary to constitute a new one. It was at this crisis that a 
celebrated man first appeared upon a theater of action, 
on which he afterward became illustrious. This was 
Dumouriez. 

General Dumouriez in the command which he had al- 
ready held in La Vendee, had displayed extraordinary 
abilities. Kept down as it were by the times, and the pe- 
cuUar events then passing, he had spent most of his life in 
diplomatic intrigues. He was now fifty years of age. 
He w"as in truth ready to take any side which offered 
him the strongest hopes of preferment. His character 
may be illustrated by this incident : He exclaims in his 
memoirs, " Honor to the patriots who took the Bastille," 
yet a few pages after he acknowledges, that being at 
Caen at the time of that event, he had composed and 
presented a memorial on the best means of preserving the 
BastUle, and suppressing the revolution. A sister of the. 
famous emigrant Rivaral was his acknowledged mistress ; 
and probably he was in heart a royalist. Returning to 
Paris from La Vendee, Dumouriez discovered that the 
Jacobins were the ruling power in France. He attended 
the clubs and took part in the proceedings. But he still 
kept up his intimacy with some of the persons around Louis 
XVI. By their means it was that Louis was induced to 
oifer him the port-foHo of foreign affairs. - The other 
places in the cabinet were filled by Lacoste, Duranthon, 
Roland, and Clavieres. 

This ministry began their functions, by prosecuting 



1S2 INSULTS OFFERED TO THE QUEEN. 

vigorous reforms. The king was charmed at the prospect 
of accomplishing some good at last through their means. 
The progress of republican simplicity was noted by co- 
temporary writers, in the imjDortant circumstance that 
Roland, one of the ministers, appeared in the presence of 
the monarch without buckles on his shoes ; and that an- 
other functionary (Chabot) retained his hat ! 

By this time the royal family had become totally alien- 
ated from the nation. The latter displayed feelings of 
hostihty, which indicated that the day for reconciliation 
was forever past. On one occasion the queen approached 
the window of her chamber which opened toward the 
coiirt, to take a little air. A gunner of the guard ad- 
dressed her with words of vulgar abuse. Said he to her, 
" I should like to see your head on the point of my bay- 
onet." In the same garden just beneath the eye of the roy- 
al caj^tives, a man might often be seen mounted on a chair, 
uttering to a crowd the most infamous calumnies, within 
the hearing of the king and his family. One day ovei*- 
hearmg these, the queen burst into tears and exclaimed, 
" What an abode ! What a people ! " What a sad con- 
trast was presented between her present situation of mor- 
tification and danger, and the splendid scenes and the 
brilliant hopes of her youth ! She who had been reared 
amid the magnificence of the most magnificent of courts ; 
who inherited the chivalrous reverence and admiration 
of that nation, which had retained beyond all other nations 
the respectful feelings which characterized the middle 
ages, in reference to the established rights and the unap- 
proachable superiority of kings ; even she was made to 
tremble at the horrid curses and infamous imprecationa 



SANTERRE AND HIS MOB. I33 

wliieh were lavislied upon her by a nation whose guest 
she had become ; to whom she had entrusted her dearest 
hopes, and those of her children ; and whom she had 
never injured nor wronged in the smallest possible de- 
gree. Such are the amazing vicissitudes of human life ; 
such the value and the stability of popular applause and 
popular censure ! The queen wishmg to feel the pubUo 
pulse at this time went to the opera. '■'■There goes Madam 
Deficit^'' said the crowd, as her carriage passed along ; al- 
luding to the reported deficiency of the treasury which 
they absurdly ascribed to her extravagance and mis- 
management. 

On June 20th, 1792, the unhappy king and his family 
were compelled to witness the most dangerous and formi- 
dable outbreak of popular violence which they had yet 
seen. The Tuilleries on this occasion were attacked by a 
mob under Santerre, a butcher of the faubourg St. An- 
toine; and the safety of the king even in his gilded pris- 
on, was seriously endangered. 

The multitude had assembled first around the hall of 
the representatives, for the purpose of presenting various 
petitions. Having accomplished tbis end through their 
leaders, and feelmg under the inlluence of an excitement 
produced by the interest of the occasion, they conde- 
scended to extend theii' journey to the Tuilleries. San- 
terre, with a drawn sword, marched at their head. Wo- 
men crowded among the throng. Flags waved with 
the inscription, " The Constitution or Death." Ragged 
breeches mounted on poles, were carried along as the 
colors of this motley and infamous crowd. Cries were 
heard of yivent Us Sans-culottes I On the point of a 



134 JACOBIN PANTOMIMES. 

pike was borne a calf's heart, with the inscription, "Heart 
of an aristocrat." Such were the scenes of infamy with 
which the glorious era and triumphs of Liberty were 
about to be introduced into France ! 

When the crowd arrived at the gates of the Tuilleries, 
they found them closed, and j^i^otected by numerous de- 
tachments of the National Guards. The king with his 
usual sincerity and want of suspicion, ordered the gates 
to be opened. The rabble not appreciating the feelings 
and motives of the king, rushed in as if that privilege 
had been granted them from fear of their numbers and 
power ; and they made the palace resound with shouts of 
•' Down with the VetoP " The Sans-culottes forever." 
During this disturbance, the king was accompanied with 
the aged Marshal Aclogue, some of his household ser- 
vants, and several oflScers of the national guard. At 
that moment the sound of axes was heard, assulting the 
doors of the private apartments of the king, Louis or- 
dered the doors to be opened. The crowd rushed in. 
" Here I am," said he, to the enraged rabble. Amid the 
endless confusion which prevailed, constant shouts were 
heard of "No Veto;" "No Priests;" "No Aristo- 
crats ! " " Vive la Nation ! " cried they. " Yes," an- 
swered Louis XVI., " Yive la Nation y I am its best 
friend." " Well prove it then," said one of the despica- 
ble wi'etches who led on the rabble ; at the same time 
holding before him a red cap on the point of a pike. The 
king took the infamous emblem and put it on his head. 
The crowd then " uttered a deal of stinking breath" ap- 
probatively, and rent the air with their acclamations. 
One of the rabble who was drunk, offered the king a 



THE RABBLE IN THE PALACE. 135 

dram from a filthy bottle, which he held in his hand. 
The king drank without hesitation the offered beverage. 
The queen was then in another of the royal apartments. 
The intruders penetrated even there. As soon as she was 
seen, they exclaimed "There is the Austrian." Her 
daughter was terrified by the furious aspect of the crowd, 
and wept. Her Httle son, the dauphin, dismayed at first, 
recovered his wonted cheerfulness, and smiled in the happy 
innocence and confidence of his age. A red cap was 
handed to him ; the child immediately put it upon his 
head. Santerre who still led on the rabble, seeing the 
boy almost smothered by the folds of the cap, relieved 
him of the hated incumbrance. It was at this crisis that 
Louis XVI. did an act which has secured for him the re- 
spect and commiseration of a discriminating posterity. 
Surrounded as he was at that moment by the most des- 
picable and dangerous of all perils — that of an infuriated 
and brutalized rabble, seeking for carnage and plunder — 
he look the hand of a grenadier who was standing near 
him, placed it upon his heart, and said, " Feel whether it 
beats quicker than usual." At seven in the evening, the 
rabble retired from the palace, without havmg accom- 
plished the extremes of violence and outrage which they 
had expected. Immediately after their departure, the 
king threw from him with indignation, the red cap 
which still adorned or disgraced his head. The pal- 
ace had been defaced and abused by the populace in the 
most outrageous manner. During their presence there, 
they had presented a remonstrance to the king settmg 
forth the abuses which they asserted he had tolerated and 
permittee^ in his government. 



136 EFFECTS OF THE MOVEMENT. 

The next day some complaints were made in the Assem- 
bly in reference to the manner in which the king and the 
royal family had been outraged. One member proposed 
to commence proceedings against those who had created 
the distm'bance. This motion was ridiculed by another 
member, who answered, " Impossible ! what proceedings 
can be taken against forty thousand men ? " Of such an 
immense number had the crowd consisted ! 

It was by such gradual approaches that aU confidence 
and respect between the injured king and his people, were 
totally destroyed. They learned to regard each other 
with aversion and hatred. Only one or two more similar* 
displays of popular fury were necessary, in order to place 
things beyond the reach of remedy ; to render the exist- 
ing breach incurable ; to deprive the royal family of the 
trifling share of hberty which they still enjoyed ; and to 
conduct them to their last and final imprisonment — the 
sad prelude to the melancholy climax of their fate. And 
these essential and hateful preliminaries were not very 
long in occurring, under the influence and guidance oi 
Uobespierr'e and his blood-thirsty associates. 



CHAPTER V. 

LOUIS XVI. AT THE BAR OF THE NATIONAL CONVENTION. 

On the 14th of July, 1792, another great popular dem- 
onstration was to be made, the king and court were once 
more to be outraged, and reason insulted. It was the 
anniversary of the Federation. All the splendor and dig- 
nity which characterized the first commemoration of this 
occasion, which, has been described in a previous chapter, 
had passed away. A mortifying and disgraceful contrast 
now appeared. Instead of the magnificent altar, the 
three hundred officiating priests, the sixty thousand Na- 
tional Guards in their uniforms, the members of the as- 
sembly, the king, and the court, all proceeding with deco- 
rwoQ. and dignity as they then had done ; the observer 
now beheld a truncated column on the Champ de Mars, in- 
stead of the altar, rising from the center of a vast pile, 
which bore on its branches the keys of St. Peter, doctor's 
caps, bags full of law proceediags, cardinal's hats, tiaras, 
titles of nobility, and coats of arms; all of which were to 
be burned up. The procession consisted of a confiised 
mob of drunken vagabonds, women, children, and wag- 
ons ; on one of which was carried a daubed representa- 
tion of the taking of the Bastille, and on another, a print- 
ing press, which halted at intervals, and struck off patri- 
otic songs, to be distributed to the enthusiastic multitude 
around. After these came the assembly, the court, and 
the royal family, showing the shame they felt in their down- 



138 PROPOSAL FOR THE KING'S ESCAPE. 

cast countenances. They could not conceal the mortifica- 
tion which they experienced, that France, once the proud 
land of chivalry, refinement, and elegance, had become so 
disgraced, so dishonored, as to be the theater of such a 
scene. The oath of Federation was taken by everybody. 
When that important ceremony had been concluded, the 
assembly broke up ; and after considerable anxiety and 
danger, the king and his family succeeded in regaining the 
palace without further outrage or accident. 

It was at this period that the project was once more 
entertained of saving Louis XVI. by flight; and that 
project was now conceived by the very man who was 
so efficacious in defeating the first attempt — by Lafayette. 
He dictated to M. ToUendal a letter to the king, dated 
Paris, July 9, 1792, in which the details of the proposed 
plan of escape were minutely set forth. 

As might have been expected, Louis XVI. doubted 
either the sincerity, or the discretion of the man, whose 
officious interference had prevented his previous success, 
and he declined accepting the offer made him. The king, 
moreover, answered the proposal in such terms of severity 
and reproof, as were richly merited by the vacillating 
and self-seeking course pursued by the adventurer who 
proposed it. Said he, " The best advice which can be 
given to M. de Lafayette, is to contiaue to serve as a bug- 
bear to the factions, by the performance of his duty as a 
general." 

The project of the king's flight, however, was not yet 
given up. A retreat to the castle of Gaillon, in Nor- 
mandy, was resolved upon. The duke of Liancourt, an 
ardent friend of the king, then commanded that province. 



THE KING DECLINES IT. I39 

Its capital, Rouen, had declared its opposition to the pro- 
gress of the revolution. The duke generously offered his 
army, and even Ms fortune, to the service of the king. The 
castle of Gaillon was but a hundred miles from the sea, 
and would afford an easy flight to Louis through Nor- 
mandy to England. It was also only twenty leagues 
from Paris. But this apparently judicious plan of escape 
was rejected ; especially because it would place the king 
under obligations to Lafayette, to whom the person of the 
king must be confided during the journey. Doubtless, 
had Louis entertained any just idea of the greatness and 
the proximity of the danger which hung over him, he 
would not have refused this or any other reasonable ref- 
uge which might have been proposed. But he never im- 
agined the real extent to which the fi-enzy and the infatu- 
ation of the nation had proceeded. 

The 10th of August, 1792, approached; a day of 
memorable gloom, despair, and woe to the unhappy and 
persecuted family of the king. The whole history of 
Louis XVI. almost from the inauspicious hour of his cor- 
onation, until that of his death, was one sad procession 
and tissue of calamities. No other monarch of all the 
thousands who, in various climes and ages have inherited 
the dignities and the responsibilities of a throne, excepting 
perhaps Charles I. of England and Mary Queen of Scots, 
presents so singular and sad a spectacle. Hundreds of 
monarchs have fallen on the battle-field ; and many by the 
sudden or secret hand of the assassin. None except the 
two whom we have named, endured so long, so-unvarymg, 
and so disastrous a series of calamities ; tendmg so inev- 
itably from bad to worse, to terminate in total ruin. 



140 GATHERING OF THE STORM. 

A day had been fixed for tlie discussing of the dethrone- 
ment of the king. An extraordinary agitation prevailed 
among the deputies. In the assembly it was doubted 
whether the dethronement which both people and repre- 
sentatives had determined should take place, ought to be 
brought about by a deliberation and decree, or by a pub- 
lic and murderous attack. Petion, together with the 
whole party of the Girondists, preferred the former 
mode. He thought that a decree proclaiming the depo- 
sition of the king, would put a stop to aU farther agita- 
tion and . violence. Perhaps his judgment was correct. 
The party of the -Jacobins, however, refused to acquiesce 
in this plan. They declared that the people had resolved 
to take their hberty and its defense into their own hands. 
Chabot proposed that the tocsin should be toUed that 
very evening, and that the last decisive acts of the revo- 
lution should now begin. 

A general agitation pervaded Paris. The druins sound- 
ed in every direction. The battaUons of the national 
guards repaired to their quarters, in ignorance of the real 
cause of the universal alarm. The sections were filled 
with the most violent and noisy of the citizens. The in- 
surrectional committees had formed at various points — in 
the faubourg St. Antoine, in the faubourg St. Marceau, 
at the hall of the Cordeliers, Danton's clarion voice was 
heard calling the people to arms. Said he, " The people 
can now have recourse but to themselves. Lose no time. 
This very night, satellites concealed in the palace are to 
rush forth upon the people and to slaughter them ! Save 
yourselves, then ! To arms ! to arms ! " 

This cry "To arms!" soon became general, and re- 



THE MARSELLAIS. 14] 

sounded throughout the streets and palaces of the vast 
capital. From the center to the circumference of the 
city, one wide and universal yell swelled up toward heav 
en, and made night hideous with its terrible confusion. 
The Marsellais seized some pieces of cannon which had 
been placed before the Jacobin club ; and then- procession 
was joined by an immense crowd. They determined first 
to send commissioners to the Hotel de Ville, to turn out 
the municipal officers, and take all authority in their own 
hands. The tocsin was now rmging incessantly, and its 
solemn, startling sound reverberated over the whole capi- 
tal. It was wafted afar on the wings of the midnight 
winds to the surrounding suburbs. It proclaimed the 
memorable hour, when the oldest monarchy in Europe 
was about to fall. That night of agitation, terror, and 
blood, was to be the last which the hek of so many kings 
was destined to pass in the palace of his ancestors. 

The king, the queen, their two children, and Madam 
Elizabeth, the king's sister, had not retired to bed ; but 
had gone into the council chamber, where the ministers 
and many superior officers were dehberating in teiTor, 
what steps had best be taken to save the royal family. 
The Swiss guards were the only troops which yet re- 
remained faithful to Loiiis. But their artillery had 
been taken from them ; and though they were honorable 
and intrepid men, their numbers were too small to be 
able to afford any assistance against the migl ty masses 
of that stupendous popular flood, whose surges were ev- 
ery moment approaching nearer and nearer to the palace. 
These troops were eight hundred in number. They were 
commanded by by Generel Mandat. The incessant clang 



142 THE MOB APPROACHES THE PALACE. 

of the tocsin, the booming of artiUerj, the rattling of 
ammunition wagons along the streets, the yells of the 
populace, the march of the approaching column, and the 
rolling of their drums, were becoming more and more 
distinct to the terrified ears of the unhappy family, 
against whose innocent heads the insensate rage of those 
besotted multitudes was so strangely and so cruelly 
directed. 

General Mandat had made the best dispositions which 
were possible for the defense of the palace. In addition 
to these eight hundred Swiss, there were in the edifice a 
great number of old servants of the royal family, who, 
arming themselves with swords and pistols, and whatever 
other weapons they could obtain, resolved to die in de- 
fense of the family with whose fortunes they so honora- 
bly identified themselves. Well did they acquit them- 
selves of this last sad duty to their benefactors, which 
devolved upon them. 

It is probable that a vigorous defense made at this mo- 
ment, and especially a determined attack upon the rab- 
ble, might still have saved the royal family. But Louis 
XVI. though a virtuous, was not an able prince. He was 
devoid of the energy and the resolution necessary for 
such a fearful crisis ; _and it was his misfortune, and not 
his crime, that he did not on this occasion, exercise facul- 
ties which nature had not bestowed upon him, and which 
he therefore did not possess. 

It was now five o'clock in the morning. The multitude 
overcoming every resistance, had reached and surround- 
ed the palace. The dawn of day exhibited to the 
terrified king and his family, on all sides, a vast sea of 



RESOLUTION OF THE QUEEN. 143 

angry heads, and every demonstration of popular fury. 
Their artillery was pointed toward the palace. Their 
confused shouts and bacchanalian songs were heard 
within its gUded halls. The commandant, Mandat, had 
been shot by the insurgents, at the Hotel de Ville, 
whither he had gone with a message from the king. The 
monarch immediately sent an order, marked by his usual 
though mistaken clemency, commanding his Swiss guards 
not to fire upon the mob, and only to act upon the de- 
fensive. His friends now urged him to put himself at the 
head of his troops, and commence a desperate resistance. 
It is even said that Maria Antoinette declared to him : 
" Sire, it is time to show youself," and snatching a pistol 
from the belt of General d'Affry, she presented it with a 
lofty and dignified gesture to the king, and reproved him 
for his pusillanimity. She had just dried the bitter tears 
which her misfortunes had wrung from her crushed spirit. 
But Louis XVI. was not a hero ; he was only a martyr ; 
and was incapable of an act of so much boldness and 
resolution. 

By the advice of his counselors Louis determined to 
show himself once more to the multitude. He wore a 
purple suit of clothes, and his hair, which had not been 
dressed for some hours, was in disorder. On stepping 
out on the balcony his presence excited some enthusiasm. 
He now beheld before him many pieces of artiUery direct- 
ed against the palace. The caps of his grenadiers were 
at once hfled, in respect to the royal presence, and placed 
upon the points of their bayonets. For the last tune, the 
ancient cry of '■''Yive le JRoi!^^ so long associated with 
the glories, the splendors, and the calamities of the French 



Ii4 LOUIS REVIEWS HIS GUARDS. 

monarchy, resounded around the halls of the palace of 
the Capets. From the balcony the king descended to the 
courts to review liis troops. He was received there with 
enthusiasm. The attachment of this small body of men 
10 the faUing fortunes of the king, commends them to the 
respect of all ages ; for they proved faithful to a man 
whom they knew to be unfortunate, and not guilty, and 
had strength of mind enough to resist the delirium which 
swept away the sanity of so many thousands of mankind. 
But disaffection had spread among the gmmers, who 
manned the few pieces of artillery which defended the 
palace ; and among some of the battalions of the national 
guards. As the kmg passed along these in his route back 
to the palace, some of the gunners, quitting their posts, 
ran up to the king, thrust their blackened fists into his 
face, and insulted him by the most brutal language. Louis 
was as pale as a corpse ; and he was convinced, by the 
signs of disaffection which were displayed by his own 
troops — always excepting the heroic and incorruptible 
Swiss — ^that aU was lost. 

It was at the moment of the king's retui-n from this in- 
spection, that he was advised to take a step which proved 
to be decisive of his future fate. He was induced to take 
refuge, as he thought, from the impendmg danger in the 
bosom of the national assembly. This act sealed his des- 
tiny ; though at that moment of confusion and terror, it 
was apparently the best measure which the king could 
adopt. By it all bloodshed seemed hkely to be pre- 
vented, and the lives of the royal family woxdd be pre- 
served; for had the palace been taken by storm they would 
tiave inevitably been massacred on the spot. But in the 



LOUIS REPAIRS TO THE ASSEMBLY. 145 

end the step proved ruinous to the king's cause. From 

the assembly he passed to his prison. From his prison he 

journeyed to the scaflbld ! 

The queen violently opposed this stej). Roederer urged 

her to remember, that by so doing she endangered the 

lives of her husband and her children. At length the 

king said with a resigned tone to his friends and family, 

" Let us go." " Sir," said the queen to Roederer, " you 

will answer for the hves of the king, and of my children." 

Roederer replied, " Madam, I promise that I will die by 

their side ; I can do nothing more." They set out for the 

assembly by the garden, the terrace of the Feuillans, and 

the courts of the riding school. A detachment of the 

Swiss accompanied and protected the royal family. A 

deputation from the assembly met them, and with some 

small show of courtesy conducted them to the hall. The 

crowd was immense, and a passage was made for them 

by the efforts of the grenadiers. The royal family then 

entered, followed by the two ministers. Said Louis XVI., 

" Gentlemen, I come to prevent a great crime ; I thhik I 

can be no where safer than in the midst of you." Verg- 

niaud, the president, replied that he might rely on the 

firmness of the national assembly, and that they would 

protect the constituted authorities. Louis seated himself 

by the president. Chabot suggested that the presence of 

the king might influence the freedom of pubUc discussion ! 

To avoid this result, the king and liis family were removed 

into the box of the reporters of the assembly — the loge 

de rapporteur ; which box was thus rendered illustrious 

by the fact, that it was the first and the last instance, in 

the history of the world, in which the humble seat of a 
G 10 



146 HIS RECEPTION THERE. 

reporter was honored as the refuge of an illustrions king. 
Even there, Louis was not free from insult. A ragged 
workman of the suburbs made his way to the iron raiUng 
which protected the fugitives, and said aloud to the king, 
" You are there, are you, Beast of a veto ! There is a 
purse of gold I foimd in your palace yonder ; if you had 
found mine, you would not have been so honest ! " 

Roederer proceded to inform the assembly of the hor- 
rid scenes which had occurred. The assembly ordered 
twenty members to proceed to the crowd, and pacify 
them. At that moment the report of cannon was heard, 
mingled with the sound of musketry. It was a bloody 
conflict which had begun at the palace between the Swiss 
guards and the multitudinous rabble. The latter were 
probably ignorant of the departure of the king. They 
said to the troops, " Give up the palace to us, and we are 
friends." The duty of the Swiss forbade them to comply, 
with this demand. The firing then commenced. The 
troops discharged a cannon among the MarseLllais rabble, 
and made great slaughter. Terror seized the defenders 
of liberty on all sides, and they fled in great confusion. 
If the S^viss had followed up their advantage at this mo- 
ment, all might perhaps have been redeemed. But at 
this juncture the king's order arrived, forbidding the 
Swiss to fire, and commanding them to follow him to the 
assembly. A large portion of them obeyed, leaving the 
palace without its defenders. 

The enraged and wounded rabble now rallied. They 
were led by Westerman and Danton. They poured on in 
immense numbers, attacking the few troops who remained, 
slaying the most of them ; and at length, after suffering 



THE DESTRUCTION OF THE PALACE. 14'; 

some loss, obtained absolute possession of the ancient 
home of their kings. From this moment the attack was 
turned into a promiscuous massacre. The Swiss threw 
down their arms. They begged for quarter — a privilege 
granted by the most barbarous of combatants. They 
were butchered without mercy. The old servants of the 
king who fled, were pursued into the gardens and there 
murdered. Some of these chmbed up the splendid monu- 
ments for refuge, with which the taste and the munifi- 
cence of many kings had adorned the spot. They were 
mercilessly picked off by the sharp shooters of the rabble, 
and feU dead to the earth. The massacre was carried 
throughout every apartment and recess of the palace. 
Streams of blood were seen to flow from the roofs to the 
cellars of that once sj)lendid edifice. Disgraceful and in- 
decent mutilations were perpetrated pubhcly on the 
bodies of the dead, such as would only be agreeable to a 
Parisian revolutionary populace. Most promiaent among 
the perpetrators of this outrage were worsen, who for- 
getting the natural attributes and decency of their sex, 
displayed the brutahty of infuriated beasts. Seven hun- 
dred and fifty Swiss perished on that horrid day. The 
palace was ransacked. The work of slaughter finished, 
next followed that of devastation and demolition. The 
elegant furniture was dashed ia pieces, and its fragments 
scattered far and wide. The rabble penetrated into the 
private apartments of the queen, which they disgraced 
with their obscenities. They ransacked every recess ; 
they broke open every lock; they examined every de- 
pository of private papers. The cellars were plundered. 
All tne works of art, with which the palace of the most 



148 DECREE OF DETHRONEMENT PASSED. 

refined monarchs of Europe had for generations been 
adorned, were destroyed. The butchery and devastation 
did not cease for some hours. Rapine, drunkenness, and 
bloodshed increased the revel and the carnage. When 
the crowds reth-edthey had expended their rage. There 
was nothing left upon which to wreak it ; for they had 
made a wreck of everything. 

MeanwhUe the assembly proceeded with its discussions, 
and awaited the issue of the combat at the palace. The 
royal family were imprisoned for fifteen hours, in the re- 
porter's box, from which spot they distinctly heard the 
violent and abusive discussions of the deputies. From 
that spot Louis XVI. beheld the utter ruin of his hopes, 
the destruction of his authority, the crumbling of his 
scepter. The assembly then passed the celebrated decree 
of dethronement. By its orders Louis XVI. was sus- 
pended from the royal authority ; a plan of education was 
appointed for the dauphin ; and a national convention was 
convoked. During the passage of these infamous de- 
crees, the sister and the wife of the ruined monarch were 
bathed in tears. Their situation, even in their humble 
refuge, was most unpleasant. The heat was intensely op- 
pressive. The only refreshment of which the king par- 
took, during all this time, was a peach and a glass of wa- 
ter. He sat with his hat ofi", intently watching the pro- 
ceedings of the assembly, who assumed the prerogative 
of deciding his fate. From the hall of the assembly, when 
that body adjourned, the royal family were conveyed to 
the building of the Femllans. There they remained for 
three days, occupying a suite of apartments, consisting of 
tour very smaU rooms. In the first were several gentlemen 



THE COURT ABOLISHED. 149 

who accompanied the king. In the second was the king 
himself. The third was occupied by the queen, who had 
none of her own servants about her. The fourth was ap- 
propriated to the royal children, and their aunt, Madame 
Elizabeth. 

The proceedings of the French people and their repre- 
sentatives on this memorable occasion, serve as a power- 
ful illustration of the character of perverted popular rule, 
in all ages and in every clime. The ignorant multitude, 
misled as they inevitably will be, in most cases where 
they possess absolute poHtical power, by designing and 
unprincipled leaders, wiU ever become their tools for the 
perpetration of outrage and despotism. The crimes of 
kings and princes have indeed been innumerable. But 
we question very much whether, if the sovereign power 
had been, during the past history of the world, intrusted 
to the populace as often as it has been to princes, the 
crimes and outrages of the former had not been equal 
in number to those committed by the latter. They all 
alike partake of the common ialirmities and weaknesses 
of humanity. 

After decreeing the dethronement of the king, the as- 
sembly proceeded to remove all the high functionaries of 
the state as being closely connected with the king, San- 
terre, the butcher, was invested with the command of the 
national guards. They suppressed the municipal gen- 
eral coimcil, and substituted Petion in their place and 
authority, under the title of Procureur Syndic. The 
great seal of state was taken possession of by the new 
minister of justice. This important office was conferred 
by the assembly on Danton^ an immortal name in the an- 



150 THE NEW GOVERNMENT. 

nals of popular outrage and revolution. Iiebrun, a pru- 
dent, thoughtful, stupid man, was made minister of foreign 
affairs, Monge was equally surprised with the appoint- 
ment of minister of the marine. 

The assembly next resolved, that all those decrees to 
which Louis XVI. had thought it his duty to affix his 
veto^ should now receive the authority of law. By vari- 
ous acts the legislatui-e assumed and exercised all the 
functions of government. Several months thus passed 
away, during which the popular attention, and the legis- 
lative vigilance, were directed toward the memorable 
massacres which took place in the prisons of Paris, in the 
Abbaye, the Conciergerie, la Force, the Bicetre, La 
Salpetriee, and the Chatelet. In each of these prisons 
horrid ficenes of bloodshed were perpetrated on the cap- 
tives of the 10th of August. The attention of the nation 
was also diverted from the royal family for a time, by the 
vicissitudes and fortimes of the war which was carried on 
by the nation against their enemies in Belgium and Savoy, 
under the command of Dumouriez and Kellerman. Du- 
ring the same interval the formal abolition of royalty, and 
the pubHc proclamation of the republic, took place. 

But by a strange infatuation, the thoughts of the na- 
tion soon reverted to the condition and the destiny of 
their royal and noble captives. From the 1st of October, 
1791, to the 20th of September, 1792, the legislative as- 
sembly had passed two thousand one hundred and fifty 
decrees, relating to the administration of the kingdom. 
It does not comport with our purpose to enter into the 
consideration of any of these. They belong to the his- 
tory of the revolution. We will confine ourselves strictly 



THE ROYAL FAMILY IN THE TEMPLE. 15] 

DOW to the events which appertain to Louis XVI. and 
his unfortunate family. 

These unhappy victims of popular frenzy had been trans- 
ferred to the prison known as the Temple. They were 
confined in the small tower, without any interior com- 
munication with the rest of the edifice. The body of 
jhis building was four stories high. The first story con- 
sisted of an ante-chamber, a dining-room, and another 
room in which was contained a library of fifteen hundred 
volumes. The second story was divided in nearly the 
same way. The bed-chamber of the queen and the prin- 
ces was ia the second story. The apartments of the 
king were in the third story. He slept in the large room 
and made a study of the turret closet. The fourth story 
was not used. The king generally rose at six in the morn- 
ing. He shaved himself, and the faithful Clery dressed 
his hair. He then went to his reading-room or study. 
He there read, or' wrote, till nine. At nine o'clock the 
royal family assembled in the king's chamber for break- 
fast. At ten, the king went with his children to the 
queen's apartment, and there passed the day. He em- 
ployed himself in educating his son ; giving him lessons 
in reading, in geography, and in reciting choice j)assages 
of the most distinguished French poets. The queen was 
employed in the instruction of her daughter, during the 
same interval. 

The rest of the time till one was passed in needle-work, 
and in general conversation. At one o'clock, if the weather 
was fair, the royal family were allowed to promenade in 
the garden, under the care of four municipal officers, and 
a commander of a legion of the national guards. Dinner 



152 HABITS OF THE ROYAL PRISONERa 

was seived up at two. Santerre usually visited the royal 
family at this time, The king occasionally spoke to him, 
the queen never. In the evening, the time was passed 
in reading from some historical work. At nine the family 
supped, and shortly after separated for the night. The 
king kissed his children, and then retired to his lonely tur- 
ret, where, in sohtude and silence he usually remained 
reading and meditating till midnight. Each apartment 
was always under the strict watch of an officer. 

On the assembling of the national convention the ques- 
tion was soon proposed : what shall be done with the royal 
captives in the Temple ? On the first announcement of 
this inquiry, a profound silence pervaded the assembly. 
At length Barbaroux rose and said that this question 
was premature. It was first necessary to determine 
whether the convention was a judicial body; whether it 
was a court of justice as well as a legislature ; whether it 
could execute laws as well as make them. He added, 
that if the trial of Louis XVI. came within the range of 
the functions of the assembly, it had many more culprits 
to try besides those already named. The important ques- 
tion was then referred to the committee of legislation, for 
their determination. 

The committee took six weeks for the consideration of 
this question. This delay was agreeable to some parties, 
and obnoxious to others. The more moderate and intel- 
ligent part of the nation, as well as the nobility and the 
ecclesiastical orders, hoped that in the interval the popu- 
lar fury might calm down, and that the delusion might 
pass away, which condemned Louis as a traitor to his 
country ; as the enemy of liberty ; as a man who, on any 



TRIAL OF LOUIS PROPOSED. 153 

account, deserved the punisliment of death. On the 
other hand, all the enraged factions loudly demanded the 
trial of the king. The Jacobin club was pertinaciously 
active and prominent among the agitators. They ac- 
cused the Girondists of delaying the trial of the monarch 
by their quarrels and disorders, with which they distracted 
the national assembly. It was apparent to every ob- 
server, that the memorable day could not be very far dis- 
tant, when the injured son of St. Louis was to stand, as 
an accused culprit, at the bar of his country. 

The conxtnittee to whom was referred the question of 
the trial of Louis XVI. at length presented its report. 
That report contained the charges against the monarch, 
as well as the documentary proofs on which they were 
based. Two points were to be determined by the assem- 
bly. The first : whether the king could be tried at all. 
The second : if he could, what tribunal was competent to 
pronounce the judgment ? The report of the committee 
was printed ; and being translated into most of the lan- 
guages of Europe, soon spread throughout the continent. 

The doctrine which had universally prevailed through- 
out Europe for a thousand years previous to this period ; 
which had been founded in the mediasval era of feudal 
power ; and which had been estabhshed by the acquies- 
cence of all civilized nations afterward, was that the per- 
son of a king is sacred and inviolable ; that he may be de- 
posed, but being the anointed of God, and the represen- 
tative of his government on earth, he cannot be impris- 
oned or slain. 

The negative of the question, therefore, of the inviola- 
bility of the king's person, found powerful advocates in 
G* 



\54 TRIAL OF LOUIS DECREED. 

the national convention. A violent debate ensued, and 
the ablest men on both sides put forth their best efforts. 
The Jacobins, as might be expected, contended furiously 
for the immolation of the Idng on the bloody altar of their 
frenzy and ambition. St. Just, who afterward became 
badly celebrated, made his first great display in the con- 
vention on this question. He exhibited considerable 
power of logic and declamation. He was followed by M. 
Morisson, the most zealous advocate of the inviolability 
of the person of the king. The arguments of the latter 
were answered by Robespierre, who spoke Avith his usual 
fierceness and acrimony. He declared that Louis XVI. 
was fighting against Hberty from the recesses of his prison ; 
that he should be condemned to death without any de- 
liberation whatever; that to dehberate was to doubt; 
that to doubt was to commit treason against the republic, 
and against freedom ; that to call in question the guilt 
of Louis XVI. was to condemn the servants of Hberty, 
who had brought the revolution on thus far ; who had 
enacted the scen.es of the 10th of August, and every other 
glorious and memorable triumph. Such was the language 
used by this powerful political maniac. He added, that 
the foes of liberty everywhere were endeavoring to crush 
her to the earth, in the person of Louis XVI. by shielding 
and protecting him. 

At length, on the 3d of December, the convention 
passed the decree, that Louis XVI. should be tried by it. 
The forms of the trial were then taken into consideration. 
The assembly then decreed that it possessed all power, 
legislative, executive, and judicial; that it alone could try 
the king, and decide upon his fate. It then resolved to 



THE ROYAL FAMILY SEPARATED. 155 

dismiss all other business from its consideration, until the 
destiny of the monarch had been determined, and that 
the convention should immediately proceed to his trial. 

Thf sad inteUigence of this new outrage which was in- 
tended for the unhappy monarch, was first communicated 
to Madam Ehzabeth, his sister, by Clery, his faithful ser- 
vant. He also informed her that during the trial the 
commune had determined to separate him from his family. 
He devised a means of communication between the mem- 
bers of the persecuted family, after the separation took 
place. It could, however, only convey one idea to the 
king's family. This plan was, to carry a handkercnief 
from the king to the princes, should he be ill. The king 
was informed by his sister of the unwelcome truth that 
his trial was soon to commence. 

The executive power was ordered to take all necessary 
means for the preservation of order during the trial. 
The declaration containing aU the charges against the king 
was presented to the assembly on the 10th of December ; 
and the appearance of Louis before his accusers and his 
judges, was fixed for the 11th of that month. 

On the morning of that day, a numerous body of troops 
surrounded the Temple — the prison in which the unhappy 
monarch was confined. At nine, the royal family repaired 
as usual to breakfast in the king's apartment. The oificers 
who were present watched the captives closely. At 
length the family separated. The king desired that his 
little son, the dauphin, might be left with him a few mo- 
ments. The request was rudely denied. He desired to 
know why this request was refused, and that smaU favor 
which the most savage of men would have granted, was» 



166 LOUIS APPEARS BEFORE HIS JUDGES. 

SO cruelly withheld from him. The answer was, that the 
comicil of the commune had so ordered it. The king then 
tenderly embraced his son ; and after his departm-e he 
walked about the room in much agitation. He then sat 
down and leaned his head upon his hand. In this position 
the unhappy monarch remained alone for half an hour, 
absorbed ia the most mournful and crushing reflections. 
The officer on guard, who stood outside his door, appre- 
hending that something was the matter, went in. The 
king on being disturbed said, " What do you want with 
me ? " "I was afraid you were not well," was the an- 
swer. The king replied in a tone of the deepest anguish, 
" The way in which they have taken my little son from 
me, cuts me to the heart." The officer withdrew in si- 
lence. The undeserved agony of fallen greatness had 
melted even his brutal spirit. What an outrage on hu- 
manity was perpetrated in the sufierings which were in- 
flicted by fiends incarnate, on this most innocent and 
amiable of men ! 

The mayor of Paris at length arrived, and informed the 
king that the convention summoned him to its bar, as 
Louis Capet. " Capet was the name of one of my ances- 
tors," replied the king ; " it is not mine." He then en- 
tered the carriage of the mayor, and proceeded to the 
assembly. Santerre announced to that body the arrival 
of the king. JBarrere, the most infamous of all the 
wretches who disgraced the revolution with his crimes, 
said, " Citizens, the eyes of Europe are upon you. Pos- 
terity wUl judge you with inflexible seveiity ; therefore 
preserve the dignity and dispassionate coolness which be- 
fit judges" When the king entered, j)rofound silence 



HIS DIGNIFIED APPEARANCE. IS'? 

pervaded the assembly. The dignity and serenity of 
Louis XVI. under the new and astounding cii'cumstan- 
ces which surrounded him, struck his accusers and his 
judges with profound reverence. For a moment even 
his bitterest enemies were overawed by the moral gran- 
deur of the scene ; and by the composure and self-posses- 
sion displayed by the outraged monarch, which, if he had 
ever been weak before, now wholly redeemed his fame. 
Even St, Just, Marat, and Robespierre, lately so fanatical 
and furious, for a moment appeared to feel the upbraid- 
ings of conscious injustice and shame. 

" Be seated," said Barrere, " and answer the questions 
which shall be put to you," Louis sat down and listened 
attentively to the reading of the Acte enonciatif, which 
contained all the accusations against him. He was 
charged, in that document, with a conspiracy to thwart 
the movement of the 14th of July; with the refusal to 
sanction the declaration of rights ; vsdth a false oath at the 
Federation on the 14th of July ; with conspiring with 
Talon and Mirabeau to effect a counter revolution ; with 
using his veto on various occasions in oppression of liber- 
ty ; with the flight to Varrennes ; with continuing their 
pay to emigrated courtiers and soldiers ; with refusing to 
sanction the decree for the emancii^ation of twenty thou- 
sand men near Paris ; with the organization of secret anti- 
revolutionary societies in Paris; and with causing the 
bloodshed which took place on the 10th of August, in the 
capital. 

To all these charges the king answered with firmness 
and dignity. He denied some of the alleged facts; he im- 
puted others to his ministers ; and he protested that in all 



158 HIS ARRAIGNMENT. 

cases he had never deviated from the constitution of his 
country. 

The king then demanded the assistance of counsel. A 
violent tumult arose among the demagogues and fanatics 
at the announcement of this request. Some of the most 
infamous of them spoke agauist grantmg the demand ; 
pretending that it was only an expedient to protract the 
final judgment. This was probably the first instance in 
the history of the world, and among civilized nations, in 
which a defendant's plea of not guilty^ and his demand 
made to the court which tried his case, to have counsel 
assigned him for his defense, was construed by that court 
in to a pretext, a mere subterfuge, to avert or protract 
the verdict. We question whether even the semi-bar- 
barous inhabitants of Morocco or Lapland would have 
made so absurd, and so outrageous an objection. Yet 
such an objection was gravely urged, by various mem- 
bers of the legislature of the greatest nation of Christen- 
dom ; so powerful is the force of popular frenzy and delu- 
sion on the human mind ! 

After a violent conflict, the request of Louis XVI. was 
complied with. He selected Turgot, Malesherbes, and 
Tronchet. The first of these declined in consequence 
of his great age ; and from the fact, that for many years 
he had retired from practice. The second had been the 
bosom Mend of Turgot and Maurepas ; a man of pro- 
found learning and great respectability of character. He 
was seventy years of age, and had passed with honor 
through many scenes connected with the glory and splen- 
dor of the ancient regime. The third was a younger 
man, of great abUity, who was rapidly rising in his pro- 



HIS COUNSEL. 159 

fession, upon whom the principal labor and responsibility 
of the defense rested. 

The convention had decreed that during the preparation 
for the trial, the king should have his two children with 
him. But as they refused to allow the whole royal family 
to be together, the king, knowing that the society of his 
children was more necessary to the queen than to himself, 
refused to deprive her of that consolation. 

The three advocates of the king found it necessary to 
add to their number another. This person was M. Desere. 
The counsel had free access to their illustrious and unfor- 
tunate client. They had a burdensome task to perform. 
The mass of materials which they were to digest was im- 
mense. They labored night and day. At length the 26th 
day of December had arrived, the day appointed for the 
trial. The king rode, as before, to the assembly with the 
mayor, and was cheerful and courteous in his intercourse 
with them. There was but little scenic splendor or for- 
ensic display at this most important trial of modern times. 
The forms and proceedings which were somewhat after 
the fashion of the civil law, did not allow of either. The 
trial, if such it may be termed, excited vne vulgar curi- 
osity of the crowd, and the haU. of the assembly con- 
tained a singular and miscellaneous multitude, who looked 
with the same heartless eagerness on the proceedings as 
they would upon a buQ-fight, or a combat of gladiators. 
But every candid and intelligent observer was convinced 
that Louis XVI. had long since been condemned by a fore- 
gone conclusion ; and that all the efforts of his counsel and 
of his personal and political friends, could not possibly 



160 THEIR EFFORTS IN HIS BEHALF. 

avert the blow whicli the fanatical vengeance of the rev- 
olutionists had prepared for him. 

The king's counsel first discussed the principles of law 
wliich the case involved, and afterward argued upon the 
facts. It was urged by them, that Louis looked in the as- 
sembly for his judges, whereas he beheld everywhere only 
his accusers. Their defense of the king was long, learned, 
and able. The assembly hstened to their efforts with 
dignified attention. After they had concluded, Louis 
made a few observations which he had written. He end- 
ed by saying, " In addressing you, perhaps for the last 
time, I declare that my conscience reproaches me with 
nothing ; and that my counsel have stated to you the 
truth. I assert, that the many proofs I have at all times 
given you of my love for the people, and the manner in 
which I have always governed my conduct, ought to 
prove to you that I was not afraid to expose myself to 
prevent bloodshed ; and to clear me forever from such a 
charge." With these simple words, so true and so im- 
pressive, the king took his leave of the convention, with 
whom it was worse than vain to argue. In leaving, the 
king saluted an assembly of -?^e/icAme/2, who refused to 
reciprocate the courtesy ! To such a degree may politi 
cal fanatacism blunt even the amenities of our nature I 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE DOWISTFALL OF THE ANCIENT MONARCHY OF PEANCE, 

An immense tumult immediately ensued upon the king's 
de]3arture fi-om the convention. The next thing in order 
was the discussion upon the defense which he had made. 
Some of the deputies, however, raised a great outcry 
against the endless delays which were thus allowed, as 
they said, to obstruct the onward path of justice. They 
wanted no discussion. The tempest continued to rage 
for an hour with great violence. At length order was re- 
stored ; and the assembly resolved that the final discus- 
sion on the king's fate should be resumed on the 27th of 
that month. 

On that day the assembly was addressed by a large 
number of the ablest orators of all parties. The majority 
argued in favor of his condemnation, reserving the ques- 
tion of the nature of his punishment, as a subsequent and 
distinct inquiry. The rest, who were few in number, con- 
tended for an appeal to the nation, which was intended to 
rescue him. Some of the representatives had been deeply 
affected by the serenity and dignity displayed by this in- 
jured prince ; and could not refrain from giving utterance 
to theii- feelmgs. Of this number was Vergniaud, the 
eloquent leader of the Girondists. He spent the whole 
night after the condemnation of Louis, in tears. There 

were many others who, upon that memorable occasion, 

11 



102 SPEECH OF ROBESPIERRE. 

were unable to stifle the innate feelings of humanity and 
justice, which even the fanaticism and frenzy of the revo- 
lution had faUed to eradicate. But their influence and 
their numbers were small, compared with the immense 
mass of the Jacobins and their coadjutors, whose mem- 
bers constituted the great majority of the assembly. 

Robespierre spoke on this occasion with more than his 
usual fury. This was the greatest opportunity which had 
yet ofiered itself to display his talents, and augment his 
power. Like all hypocr*"^>es, he too must pretend to a 
semblance of humanity and virtue. He had been moved 
at the sight of the accused, thus humbled before the 
mighty power of the people. But the greatest sacrifice, 
he said, that he could make for his country's good, was 
to stifle those humane emotions, when they endangered 
the welfare of the state. He then spoke of the constant 
delays which retarded the cause of justice. He con- 
demned the appeal to the people. He proceeded to quote 
alluiions to instances of ancient repubhcan virtue — Cre- 
tias, Socrates, and Cato. He desired the convention to 
proceed manfully against the worst of tyrants, and not to 
flinch in the performance of their stern though unpleas- 
ant duty. He ended by demanding the immediate con- 
demnation of Louis, and his punishment by death. 

The discussions on the fate of the king lasted five days. 
Vergniaud, Brissot, Gensonne, Petion, Barrere, — each 
spoke at great length and with much ability. The last 
of these, especially, by the appearance of calm impartiaUty 
which he assumed, exerted a more fatal infiuence against 
the king, and displayed deeper turj)itude than any of his 
associates. The 14th of January, 1793, was at length ap- 



THE DECREE OF GUILTY. 163 

pointed as the period for putting the final vote in refer- 
ence to Louis XVI. and his destiny. 

When that momentous day arrived, an immense multi- 
tude surrounded the assembly and filled the tribunes. It 
vv^as decreed that the votes of the assembly should be ta- 
ken upon these points : whether the king had been guilty 
of treason ; whether the judgment should be referred to 
the people ; and what should be his pimishment. It was 
also determined that each member should vote from the 
tribune ; that he should write his vote ; then sign it ; and 
if he desired, add his reasons for so doing. When the 
votes were taken, six hundred and eighty-three members 
declared Louis XVI. guilty^ without any explanation or 
reservation. Thirty-seven declared him guilty, but de- 
nied the right of the convention to condemn and punish 
him. Twenty-eight members were absent on various ex- 
cuses and commissions. Not one single person among 
that large assemblage of seven hundred and forty-nine 
intelligent Frenchmen, had either the fortitude or the un- 
partiahty to declare Louis XVI, umocent ! 

The second question to be decided was the aj^peal to 
the people. On this point, two hundred and eighty-one 
deputies voted for an appeal to the people. Four hun- 
dred and twenty-three voted against it. The rest of the 
members were either absent or declined to vote. It was 
thus decided by a majority of the representatives, that 
the fate of the unhappy kmg should not be referred to 
the decision of the nation. 

The next day was appointed for the vote upon the third 
and most important question — the nature of the king's 
penalty. On that day the crowd was greater and the in- 



164 VOTE UPON THE KING'S PUNISHMENT. 

terest more intense, than they had been at any previous 
period. The tribune was occupied at an early hour by the 
most furious of the Jacobins, iu order that they might 
more closely scrutinize the voters, and their sentiments. 
It was expected that the sitting would be both a protracted 
and an excited one, and some prehminaries were neces- 
sary to maintain the preservation of order and security. 
These occupied nearly the whole day. It was seven 
o'clock in the evening when the yoting began ; and the 
assembly decreed that the sitting should be permanent, 
until the voting had been concluded. 

A scene and an occasion like the one which was about 
to ensue, was certainly most memorable in the history of 
nations. An excited band of adventurers and dema- 
gogues were about to decree the destiny of the immediate 
successor but one of Louis XIV., who was regarded in 
his day as the most powerful and formidable sovereign in 
Europe. This band was about to exert an usurped au- 
thority over the throne, and over the institutions and 
prerogatives of ages. What had been the work of many 
successive generations of men; that which all their toils, 
their triumphs, and their vicissitudes had established, these 
irresponsible fanatics were about to blast from the face 
of the earth and from the sight of men, by one fell 
sweep of their mushroom power and supremacy. The 
solemn kneU of the mighty Capet dynasty was about to 
strike forever ; its long line of glorious heroes and illus- 
trious kings, was about to be extinguished and descend 
to the tomb in anguish, ignominy, and disgrace. Those 
men who were about to dispose of the life — ^not of a 
mere citizen, not of a prince, nor even of a statesman, 



DIFFERENT PENALTIES PROPOSED. 165 

but of a great sovereign^— knew not, scarcely, at that very 
moment, whence the means were to come to pay the hum- 
ble lodgmgs which they then occupied ! Such are some 
of the strange vicissitudes which occur in the affairs and 
the fortunes of men ; teaching most impressively the van- 
ity of human greatness, and how despicable may he, and 
often are, the possessors and the depositaries of human 
power. 

The voting began. The most reasonable and the most 
honorable of the members of the assembly, voted in fa- 
vor of the banishment of the king ; or for his imprison- , 
ment until peace was restored, and for his subsequent 
banishment. Another class voted for the death of Louis, 
with the express proviso, that it would be expedient to 
stay the execution of the sentence for an indefinite time. 
They did this knowing that the gaining of time would 
be everything for Louis, and that probably that sentence 
would be equivalent to an acquittal. The vast majority 
of the assembly, however, displayed a very different spirit. 
While each member was aacending the steps of the trib- 
une to deposit his vote, profound silence pervaded the 
hall, in order that each vote might be distinctly heard, 
and tokens of censure or approbation were given accord- 
ingly. In the intervals, thy most violent threats and bois- 
terous shouts pervaded the place ; presenting a despicable 
scene of disorder and conf asion, utterly unworthy of the 
great occasion, and of the important mterests which were 
under consideration. 

As the voting progressed, and as the word "• Banish- 
ment," seemed to be frequently pronomiced, the excite- 
ment became intense. The fate of the unfortunate king 



166 THE DECREE OF DEATH. 

seemt d to hang upon an uncertainty. Suddenly an ap 
palling spectacle presented itself. Among the masses 
which crowded the center of the hall, a singular sight a]> 
peared. It was the tottei-ing figure of a man who seemed 
from his ghastly and death-like appearance, to have left 
the grave to be present at the sealing of the fate of one 
who was soon to join him in that sad abode. It was a 
deputy named Duchatel, who had left his bed of sick- 
ness, and had been carried to the convention by the still 
active and hoping fi'iends of the king, that he might cast 
his vote for " Banishinent.''^ 

At length all the ballots were deposited. The assem- 
bly had been voting all night and all the succeeding day. 
Seven hundred and forty-nine members had voted. Three 
hundred and sixty-one had decided for death uncondition- 
ally. Two hundred and eighty-six had voted for banish- 
ment. The rest had voted either for death and delay of 
execution, or for imprisonment. After the ballots were 
counted, Vergniaud, the president, announced with a sol- 
emn voice, the following decision : " The punishment 
pronounced against Louis Capet is Death! " 

Immediately after the announcement of the horrid de- 
cree of the convention, it was asserted that an error had 
been committed in counting the votes. The assembly re- 
solved to verify the result, and proceeded to examine the 
votes anew. It was then discovered that the original 
counting had been correct. 

M. Malesherbes, as the oldest friend and cj^nfidant of 
the king, was selected by his counsel to perform the un- 
grateful task of conveying to him the decree of the con- 
vention. When he entered the apartment of the king. 



LOUIS LEARNS HIS FATE. 167 

he found him resting with his forehead on his hands, abr 
sorbed in a profound and mournful reverie. He immedi- 
ately said to M, Malesherbes, " For two hours I have 
been reviewing my whole reign, and trying to remember 
whether I hav^e ever given any cause of complaint to my 
subjects, and I must say sincerely, that I have been able 
to remember no instance of the kind. I have always en- 
deavored for their good." 

Louis anticipated his fate, and was prepared to meet it. 
He then said to his friend, "Have you not met the 
W?nte Lady near my prison ? " What do you mean ? 
inquired he. The king answered with a smile, " Do 
you not know, that when a prince of our house is about 
to perish, a female dressed in white is seen wandering 
about the palace ? " Then assuming a serious and respect- 
ful maimer, he uttered these sublime words ; '"'• My friend^ 
I am aboict to depart before you^ to the land of the just. 
There I shall be at rest. My only regret is for my 
helpless family, tohom I leave behind me, uncertain of 
their fate. But we will be reunited, at last, in Heaven.^'' 
Overcome by his emotions, he added no more. 

The convention had yet one more question to decide, 
in reference to their helpless victim. It was whether 
there should be any reprieve. It was determined that 
each deputy should vote in his seat, either yes or no. 
Three hundred and ten voted for delay. Three hundred 
and eighty voted against it. It was thereupon decreed 
that Louis should die within twenty-four hours ! 

This memorable session of the convention had occupied 
seventy-two hours. It might reasonably be supposed 
that on so solemn an occasion, suitable order and decorum 



108 SCENES IN THE ASSEMBLY. 

tv'ould have characterized the behavior of the assembly. 
The reverse was actually the case. The most disgraceful 
scenes occurred. The further extremity of the hall was 
convei'ted into seats and private boxes. These were 
filled with notorious prostitutes, dressed in the immodest 
style which befitted their profession ; and there they re- 
ceived the compliments of their acquaintances among the 
members, and were entertained with ices, oranges, and 
Uquors. Several females particularly attracted the atten- 
tion of the whole assemblage, by the superior splendor 
of their dress, and by their majestic and voluptuous beauty. 
A particular box was appropriated to their use. They 
were two of the mistresses of the duke of Orleans, 
{Egalite) 

The galleries were also filled with women. Somo 
of these were the insane female Jacobins, who had taken 
a prominent part in the insurrections of the capital. They 
were drinking brandy, laughing, and jesting. Bets were 
lightly made upon the issue of the trial. Impatience and 
disgust seemed to sit on every countenance. The figures 
of the deputies, passing silently to and firo, as they de- 
posited their votes, rendered more ghastly and ghost-like 
by the feeble and uncertain light of the wax tapers as 
the night advanced, augmented the horrid gloom of the 
scene. Some of the deputies had fallen asleep, and were 
only awakened to deposite their ballot of death against 
the king. 

As the hours of the night slowly advanced the confusion 
b(icame more universal. When the duke of Orleans was 
called on to vote, he proceeded toward the tribmie with 
faltering step, and with a countenance paler than death. 



DUKE OF ORLEANS VOTES FOR DEATH. 169 

He then read these words : "Influenced exckisively by 
my duty, and convinced tnat air those who resist the sov- 
ereignty of the people deserve to die, my vote is for 
death I''^ This unnatural decision given by the first 
prince of the blood, and evidently extorted by a craven 
fear of the popular power, called forth from every part of 
the hall groans and hisses of contempt. Even the fierce 
Jacobins failed to applaud the base tribute thus rendered 
to their terrible power, by this unworthy scion of a fallen 
but immortal race. 

The fate of Louis XVI. was now sealed forever. WeU 
might the assembly pause and shudder at the act which it 
had just perpetrated. Well might all Paris be over- 
whelmed with gloom and sadness. A deed which filled 
the civilized world with horror, might readily have caused 
a few compunctious thoughts to its desperate perpetrators. 
The dreadful news was officially conveyed to the king, by 
a committee of the convention headed by Garat. The 
king received the news with calmness. His last request 
was for permission to see his family ; to have a confessor to 
assist him in his religious duties ; and liberty for his family 
to retire fi-om France. He then ordered his dinner and 
ate as usual. He remarked the absence of knives on the 
table. He smiled and said, " Do not think me so weak as 
to lay violent hands on myself. I am innocent, and am 
not afraid to die." M. Edgeworth was the ecclesiastic 
whose assistance the king desfred to have in his last 
moments. 

The most sad and painful duty of all yet remained for 
the prince to perform; and for this he summoned all his 
energy. It was to bid a last adieu to his family. His- 



1 70 LOUIS' LAST INTERVIEW WITH HIS FAMILY. 

tory scarcely records among all its harrowing details, a 
scene more affecting and distressing than the parting in- 
terview between this unhappy and persecuted monarch, 
and his "vvife and children. The domestic affections of 
Louis were very strong. His attachment to his children 
was unusually intense. How great the contrast between 
the parting interview which was about to take place be- 
tween the members of that famUy, and the previous 
scenes of their history ! When Louis fii'st embraced the 
beautiful and accomphshed princess, his wife, whom he 
was now, for the last time, about to fold to his breast, 
how widely different had been their circumstances ! He 
was the youthful and happy heir-apparent to a splendid 
throne, with the prospect of a long and brUhant reign be- 
fore him. She was the most splendid and magnificent 
woman in Europe ; full of bewitching grace and loveli- 
ness ; the proud daughter of an illustrious line of emper- 
ors ; her very presence was fascination ; and she was the 
perfection of a wife, a princess, and a queen. In the pos^ 
session of her charms, and in the enjoyment of her love, 
Louis might have been regarded as the most fortunate 
and happy of men. That once blooming and brilliant 
form he was now about to press to his breast for the last 
time — a trembling, crushed, and shattered wreck of the 
blooming bride she once had been. 

The queen was apprised that the hour for the final in 
terview had arrived. She had been informed for some 
time of the fate which the assembly had decreed to her 
husband. At half past eight in the evening his door was 
opened, and his wife and children made their appearance. 
They all rushed into his arms. A sad silence prevailed 



THEIR INTENSE GEIEF. I7l 

tor some minutes, broken only by sobs and groans. The 
king then sat down, his queen on one side, his sister. Mad 
am Ehzabeth, on the other, his children between his knees. 
All were leaning on the king, and pressing him in their 
arms. The sad interview lasted two hours, during which 
time the unhappy family exchanged those tokens and ex- 
pressions of affection, which are always dear to hearts 
that are bursting with grief, and whose only consolation 
is their mutual sympathy and their tears. At length the 
king rose, and moved toward the door. There he pressed 
each beloved one again for the last time affectionately to 
his breast. The tears and sobs of the heart-broken fami- 
ly were here renewed. Louis knew that it was for the 
last time that his eyes rested on those graceful forms he 
loved so well, though his family yet hoped for one more 
parting interview. " FareweU ! Farewell ! " said he, as he 
tore himself from their embraces, and rushed back into 
his chamber. The door then closed, and the king was 
left alone. Here for the first, and for the last time, his 
manly spirit failed him, as well it might ; and the faithful 
Clery, who waited at his door, overheard the agonizing 
sighs and moans of his heart-broken master. 

In a few minutes Louis recomposed himself, and sent 
for his confessor. During the night he slept well. The 
Abbe Edgeworth occupied Clery's bed in the same apart- 
ment with the king. In the morning, the priest celebra- 
ted mass, at which impressive service the king assisted 
with proper reverence and devotion. He then confessed, 
and received the holy communion. The altar was con- 
structed of a chest of drawers, placed in the middle of 
the apartment. The priest's vestments were borrowed 



172 LOUIS RECEIVES THE COMMUNION. 

fi'Oin a church in the neighborhood of the Temple. Du- 
ring the service Louis was seated in an arm-chau-, placed 
by Clery in front of the altar. He knelt upon a cushion 
which lay before him. It was thus that this last solemn 
and sacred rite was performed for the dying kuig. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE DEATH OF THE EOTAL MAETTES, LOUIS ZVI. AND XVH. 

The enormities of tlie French revolution would have 
remained incomplete, had they not been terminated by 
several additional acts of preeminent and unparalleled 
infamy. These a,cts were the execution of Louis XVI., 
the murder of his wife, the unfortunate and beautiful 
Maria Antoinette, and the slow but sure destruction of 
their son, the dauphin. 

When Louis was informed that the last hour of his ex- 
istence had arrived, he gave the signal to the few attend- 
ants who yet surrounded him, to advance. He and the 
Abbe Edgeworth occupied the back seat of the carriage. 
Several gen dParmes sat on the front. During the ride to 
the scene of this national murder, the king was engaged 
in devoutly reading in the breviary of the priest, the 
prayers appropriate to those about to die. It is said that 
the soldiers had express orders to destroy Louis should 
the carriage be attacked, and a rescue attempted.by his 
partisans and friends. 

The scaffold had been erected in the Place de la Revo- 
lution. Around this immense area a large number of 
cannon had been planted, to suppress any movement 
which might be made in behalf of the victim. A vast 
multitude Hned the whole route from the Temple to the 
place of execution. At precisely ten o'clock in the fore- 
noon the carriage, the progress of which had been very 



] 74 LOUIS ASCENDS THE SCAFFOLD. 

slow, halted, and Louis XVI. rising with energy, stepped 
forth into the area. Three executioners, eager for their 
infamous work, immediately seized his hands, in order to 
bind them behind him. The kmg was about to resist this 
unnecessary insult, when, after a moment's reflection, he 
yielded, and submitted to this last indignity. He was 
thus conducted to the scaiFold, accompanied by the 
priest. He ascended the steps with firmness, and having 
reached the summit of the j)latform, he looked around 
him with composure and dignity. There, the descendant 
of many illustrious kings had at length reached the last 
stage of his memorable ^d unfortunate career. From 
the height of that eminence he looked at the immense mul- 
titudes who had once proudly called him their sovereign, 
and who, but a few short years before, had hailed his ac- 
cession to the throne with loud and eager acclamations. 
He then gazed at that immense capital, which had been 
the brilliant home and seat of his long line of ancestors ; 
which had, for so many generations, been identified with 
their glory and their power ; and which they had so long 
delighted to adorn and beautify. Then turning from this 
spectacle, so pregnant with affecting reminiscences of the 
past, and directing his eyes to the crowds immediately 
around the scaffold, he uttered in a voice loud, clear, and 
unwavering, these words : " Frenchmen^ I die innocent 
of the crimes imputed to me. I forgive the authors of 
my death. I pray that my Mood may not fall upon 
France.'''' He would have said more, but the command- 
ant, fearing perhaps that the words of the king might ex- 
cite a diversion in his favor, ordered the drums to beat. 
The. loud and deafening clatter immediately drowned the 



HIS DEATH. 175 

voice of the king, and he desisted. The executioners 
then took hold of him. They rudely dragged him. be- 
neath the ax of the guillotine, and laid his head down upon 
the block. In a moment, the glittering blade fell heavily, 
and the head of Louis bounded with violence into the 
basket placed beneath the scaffold to receive it. In an 
instant, the earth and all its scenes faded from the con- 
sciousness of the murdered king; and as the ancient 
blood of the Bourbons crimsoned the soil over which they 
had so long swayed the scepter ; and as the freed spirit 
of Louis passed away forever from the earth ; the Abbe 
Edgeworth, overcome by the mournful grandeur of the 
scene, raised his hands, and exclaimed with impressive 
sublimity, " Son of St. Louis, ascend to heaven ! " The 
execution occurred on the 21st of January, A. D. 1*793. 
After a short time, the immense assembly gradually dis- 
persed. The body of the king was immediately conveyed, 
not to the royal sepulchre of St. Denis, where the long 
hne of French monarchs lay buried ; but his remains were 
hurried to the cemetery of the Madeleine, where the last 
sad burial rites were performed in silence and solitude, 
without the least circumstance of parade, by a few faith- 
ful and attached adherents of the royal family. The 
corpse was covered with quick-lime, which was intended 
to produce rapid decomposition, so that if the popular 
fury might, at any subsequent period, make an attempt 
to violate the sanctuary of the tomb, and commit any ad- 
ditional outrage upon these remains, the purpose might 
be prevented. The decomposition was so rapid and com- 
plete, that after the downfall of Napoleon in 1815, when 



J 76 THE PLACE DE LA REVOLUTION. 

an effort was made by the restored family to recover the 
remains, not the least traces of them could be found. 

Louis was executed on the same spot, upon which af- 
terward Maria Antoinette, his sister, the princess Eliza- 
beth, and many of the noblest spirits in France terminated 
their existence in blood. It was also the very spot on 
which Danton and Robespierre subsequently expiated 
their innumerable crimes. It was the same spot on which 
the heroic Charlotte Corday met her fate, with a dignity 
worthy of immortal honor, as one of the most resolute and 
devoted friends of true liberty. 

Years of mighty change and vicissitude to France 
rolled by ; and this same spot was again made memora- 
ble by the fact, that on it the assembled sovereigns and 
princes of Europe took their position, when the armies 
of the allied powers entered Paris in 1815, and once more 
restored the exiled Bom-bons to their rightful throne. 
What affecting associations must cluster around the spot, 
which has been the scene of such amazing and such con- 
tradictory events ! 

The will of Louis XVI. w^hich he prepared some time 
before his death, in anticipation of his fate, gives utter- 
ance to such sentiments as might be expected from so 
good a man, and so amiable a prince. What sublime re- 
signation and heroic courage are contained in the follow 
ing words, which occur in it : " Abandoned by the whole 
universe, I now have none but God to whom I can ad- 
dress myself. Shut up with my family in the tower of 
the Temple at Paris, by those who were once my subjects, 
and imphcated in a process of which it is impossible for 



WILL OF LOUIS XVL 177 

nio to foresee the issue, I thus declare my last wishes and 
sentiments : 

" I die in the bosom of our Holy Catholic, Apostolic, 
Roman church. I pray God to receive my deep repent- 
ance for having affixed my name, though it was done 
against my will, to any acts which were contrary to the 
discipline of the Catholic faith, to which I have ever re- 
mained sincerely attached. I request those whom I may 
have inadvertently offended — for I do not remember to 
have given offense to any intentionally — and those whom 
I may have unjustly charged with faults, to pardon the 
injury they may suppose me to have done them. 

" I forgive with all sincerity, those who may have been 
my enemies, without havmg received from me any injury ; 
and I pray God to pardon them as well as all others who 
may have done me harm. 

" I commend to Almighty God my ^dfe, my children, 
my aunts, my brothers, and all others who are connected 
with me by ties of blood. I pray God to look upon my 
family who suffer so much with me, with an eye of mercy, 
and to support them with his grace when I am dead. I 
commend my children to my wife. I have never doubted 
her maternal tenderness for them. I exhort her particu- 
larly to make them good christians and honest members 
of society ; to teach them to look upon the grandeurs of 
this world, if they should be so unfortunate as to possess 
them, as dangerous and perishable treasures, and to 
direct their attention to the only sohd and durable glory 
of eternity. I entreat my sister to continue her tender- 
ness to my children, and to supply the place of a mother, 

should they ever have the misfortune to lose then- own. 
H* 12 



178 ITS CONTENTS. 

" I beseech my wife to pardon all the miseries which 
she eudures on my account, and all the vexations I may 
have occasioned her, during the period of our union. 
And she may rest assured, that should she think that she 
has anything to reprove herseh^ with resj)ecting me, that 
I have no such feehng or remembrance. 

" I recommend to my son, should he ever become un- 
fortunate enough to become a king, to reflect that he 
must devote himself to the happiness of his fellow-citizens ; 
that he ought to forget all hatred and resentment, espe- 
cially what may relate to the sufierings I have endured ; 
that he may promote the happiness of his peojDle by reign- 
ing according to the laws ; but at the same time, that a 
king cannot cause the laws to be respected, unless he pos- 
sess a necessary degree of authority, and that otherwise 
confined in his operations and unable to inspire respect, 
he becomes more iiijurious than useful. 

" I recommend to my son, the dauphin, to take care of 
every person attached to me, as far as the circumstances 
in which he may find himself placed, may permit. There 
were some of those who were about me, that have not 
conducted themselves toward me as they ought to have 
done, and have been ungrateM. I forgive them, and I 
entreat my son only to think of their distresses. 

" I request the gentlemen of the commune to deliver 
to Clery my effects, my books, my watch, my purse, and 
the other httle articles Avhich were deposited at the coun- 
cil of the commune. I forgive the ill-treatment of those 
who have been my keepers during my captivity, and the 
harsh restrictions they thought themselves bound to prac- 
♦iice toward me. I have found some compassionate souls. 



CHARGES AGAINST THE QUEEN 179 

May they enjoy that tranquillity in their hearts, which 
their reflections can bestow upon them. 

" I request M, M. Malesherbes, Tronchet and Desere, 
to accept my sincere thanks, and the warmest expressions 
of my sensibility, for the care and trouble they have given 
themselves on my account. 

" I conclude by declaring before God and the world, 
and as ready to appear in His presence, that I have not to 
reproach myself with any of the crimes which have been 
laid to my charge. 

" Written at the Temple, December 25th, A. D. 1792." 

But a few months after the judicial murder of Louis 
XVI., in October, 1793, his unfortunate wife and queen 
was compelled to undergo the same ignominious fate.* 

* The act of accusation against her consisted of several charges, the 
substance of which was that she had contributed to the derangement 
of national finances, by remitting from time to time considerable 
sums to her brother, the Emperor Joseph ; that since the revolution 
she had continued to hold a criminal correspondence with foreign 
powei's ; that in every instance she had directed her views to a 
counter revolution, particularly in exciting the body guards and oth- 
ers of the military at Versailles, on the first of October, 1789 ; that in 
concert with Louis Capet she had distributed counter revolutionary 
papers and writings ; and even, to favor their purposes, some in 
which she was personally defamed ; that in the beginning of Octo- 
ber, 1789, by the agency of certain monopolists, she had created an 
artificial famine ; that she was a principal agent and promoter of 
the flight of the royal family in JunC; 1791 ; that she instituted pri- 
vate councils in the palace, at which the massacres, as they were 
termed, in the Champ de Mars, and at Nancy, were planned; that 
in consequence of these councils, she had persuaded her husband 
to interpose his veto against the decrees concerning the emigrants 
and the refractory priests ; and that she influenced him to form a 
guard composed of disaffected persons, and refractory priests. 



180 DEATH OF MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

We know of no instance, in all the wide range of human 
vicissitude and misfortune, which furnishes so impressive 
and so affecting an illustration of the uncertainty and 
mutability of human greatness, as the case of this unhappy 
woman. We will not even except the sufferings of Mary, 
Queen of Scots ; because her long imprisonment of 
eighteen years had gradually weaned her mind fi-om 
earth, and had blunted her sensibility to pain. But the 
once fau- daughter of Maria Theresa, born in the most 
brilHant court in Europe ; the daughter, the sister, the 
wife, and the mother of kings ; descended from a long line 
of illustrious sovereigns, and allied by blood and marriage 
to every distinguished monarch in Europe ; she was not 
only executed as a common felon, but her body, in which 
coursed the proudest blood among a hundred royal dy- 
nasties, was buried with beggars in a common ditch. The 
bill of the imdertaker, who prepared the deal coffin for the 
fallen princess, was worded thus : " For the coffin of the 
widow Capet, seven francs I " She, whose imperial an- 
cestors had for many generations been entombed with 
stately and imposing ceremonies, with solemn and seraphic 
melodies, in marble and gUded mausoleums, beneath the 
towering spire and Gothic dome of St. Stephen's ancient 
cathedral at Vienna ; upon whose exquisitely beautiful 
sarcophagi the most accomphshed talents of the sculjDtor 
had been expended; even she was consigned to the grave 
at last by brutal hands, amid savage and indecent jests, in 
a rude box, whose utmost cost to the state was seven 
fi-ancs ! And when twenty years afterward, the restored 
dynasty of the Bom-bons endeavored to find, amid the 
mouldering and undistinguished dust of that common 



THE RECOVERY OF HER REMAINS. 



181 



fosse, the remains of her who had once occupied so high 
a place, and had possessed such imperial state, only ong 
poor mark or remnant of all her former glory could be 
found, rescued from, the obUvion of the past. The crum- 
bling dust of the murdered queen, after a protracted search, 
was recognized by the garter bearing upon it the royal 
arms of France, which stUl clasped the ghastly remains 
of those knees, before which chivalrous and gallant men 
of many nations had once been proud to bow in courtly 
admiration. By that garter alone, Maria Antoinette was 
then distinguished from the common herd of prostitutes, 
assassins, and vagabonds, which had so long surrounded 
her, and had commingled with her dust ! 

The great concern expressed by Louis XVI. in the 
destiny of his son and representative, the daupMn of 
France, and the intrinsic interest of the subject itself, 
render it proper that the history of the one should be 
made complete by some details respecting the life and 
fate of the other, Nor would we be able to form a correct 
idea of France and her people during the first revolution, 
were we to omit all statements respecting a theme so close- 
ly indentified with the subject of the preceding pages. 

Charles Louis, the dauphin of France, was the second 
son of Louis XVL and Maria Antoinette ; and was born 
at Versailles, March 27th, 1785. The cardinal De Rohan 
administered to him the sacrament of baptism, imme- 
diately after his bii'th. At the period of his father's 
death he was in the eighth year of his age ; and was re- 
markable for several things : for the fairness of his com- 
plexion, the beauty of his person, and the vivacity, intelli- 
gence, and amiability of his disposition. In ] 789 his eldc 



182 THE DAUPHIN OF FRANCE. 

brotber lied, and thus it was that Charles Louis became, 
in reguLii- succession, the dauphin of France, and heir-ap- 
parent TO the throne of St. Louis. 

The earhest years of the child were passed in the 
aniuse.jQents and exercises usual with persons of his rank 
and a/je ; and as he became older, the charms of his dis- 
position rendered him more and more an object of inter- 
est and attention. On the 28th of January, 1793, imme- 
diately after the murder of his father, his uncle, the Count 
de Provence, who was then residing at one of the minor 
German courts, proclaimed him the successor of Louis 
XVI. under the title of Louis XVII. He thus became 
a legitimate sovereign, and a suitable subject for the 
scrutiny of history. 

On the first day of July, 1793, it was decreed by the 
" committee of public safety " that the dauphin should 
be separated from his mother in the Temple, and con- 
fined in another apailment. At ten o'clock at night, af- 
ter the dauphin had retired to rest, his mother was in- 
formed of the sad intelligence which was to separate her 
from her son. She was distracted at the thought, and 
besought the officers by every moving and affecting ap- 
peal, which a mother's love could suggest, not to distress 
her with so heavy an affliction. Her efforts to move 
their pity were all in vain, and the little dauphin, over- 
come with astonishment and distress at this strange and 
sudden change, was torn fx-om her embraces, and taken to 
that apartment in the tower of the Temple which had 
been occuj)ied by his unfortunate father. 

By this transition the young prince was placed under 
the control of the famous Simon, an artist in shoe-leather. 



THE COBBLER SIMON. 183 

This individual was a creature of Marat, who had pro- 
posed him for this trust, and had been approved and ap- 
pointed by Robespierre. He was a rude, ignorant, pas- 
sionate, and vulgar wretch ; just such an one as we might 
suppose would be a favorite and congenial associate of 
Marat, " the friend of the people." 

It is matter of undisputed truth that the treatment be- 
stowed by his jailor upon the young dauphin, was most 
brutal and cruel. Whenever news arrived of some par- 
tial triumiDhs gained by the royalist forces in La Vendee, 
Simon was sure to punish the prince for their successes 
by severe blows, and by the most unfeeling persecution. 
" It is your friends," said he, " you young villain, who are 
cutting our throats, and ruining the cause of liberty." 
The dauphin, scarcely knowing the meaning of the cob- 
bler's allusions, smothered his sobs, while the unbidden 
tears rolled down his cheeks. 

The day after he had been separated from his mother, 
she sent him his books, his writing materials, and his toys. 
Simon appropriated the former to the intellectual purpose 
of hghtmg his pipe, while the latter he would amuse him- 
self with breaking up, and defacing in the presence of 
the weeping prmce, who in vain implored to have them 
spared. On the 2d of August, 1793, the national assem- 
. bly added another to the long list of its outrages, by de- 
creemg that Maria Antoinette should be entirely re- 
moved from the Temple and confined in the prison of the 
Conciegerie. From that hour the heart-broken queen 
never again beheld her unhappy son ! 

After this jjeriod the cruelty of Simon became more ex- 
cessive and severe. On one occasion when the chUd re- 



1 84 SIMON WITHDRAWS FROM THE TEMPLE. 

fused to sing a revolutionary song, in which his mother 
was honored with the epithet of Austrian she-wolf. Si- 
mon threw an andiron at his head, which would inevitably 
have destroyed him, had he not, by a sudden movement, 
evaded it. 

The only regret of Maria Antoinette in leaving a world 
in which her destiny had been so sad and so singular, was 
solicitude for the fate of her two children. After her exe- 
cution theii' situation became sufficiently friendless. The 
dauphin's sister was confined in the Temple, though her 
condition was somewhat more tolerable than that of her 
brother. The treatment of Simon was intended both to 
destroy the health of the child, and to demoralize hia 
mind. The wretch succeeded in accompUshing both pur- 
poses previous to his removal from the Temple. The 
health of the latter amiable individual began to faU from 
the constant state of brutal intoxication in which he lived, 
together with the confinement of his situation ; and he 
obtained permission to retire. He took leave of his un- 
happy little victim with these words : " Oh, the young 
villain ! he is not yet quite crushed, but he never wiU es- 
cape now, even if all the priests in the world should come 
to his aid."* After Simon's departure, the dauphin was 
removed to another larger apartment, which was then 
bolted and fastened up, as if it was intended that the 
prince should never come forth again alive. His food was 
put in to him between the iron bars of the door. He had 

* It is a comfortable reflection, of ■which we would not, on any 
account, deprive the reader, that this despicable wretch Simon 
was afterward guillotined with his friend and patron Robespierre. 
Avenging justice, though slow, was sure, in this as it is in all 
other cuses to measure out deserved punishment to the guilty. 



DEATH OF THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH. 185 

ueither light noi- fire. No human soul was ever allowed 
to enter the room. It remained unswept and uncleansed 
for some months, and amid its damp and heavy shades 
the lonely and friendless child was left to while away the 
tedious hours of his existence, in solitary communion with 
his own thoughts. The little victim never even beheld 
the hand that gave him his bread and water. No friendly 
voice ever cheered him by its sympathy. The cold and 
massive waUs of that ancient dungeon chiUed his tender 
frame through and through; and if a curious stranger 
ever was permitted to look through the grated door, he 
beheld the bent and shivering form of the unconscious 
and lonely child, somewhere amid the heavy glooms of 
his prison house, silent, cheerless, and almost unconscious 
of his sad being. He was thus cut off entirely from all in- 
tercourse with his relations, and with the external world. 
He was allowed no amusement, no occupation. On the 
10th of May, 1794, his aunt, the princess EHzabeth was 
guillotined and added another to the royal victims of the 
revolution ; and the little prince and his captive sister, 
were left alone in the world. One more murder of help- 
less innocence and youth was yet wanted, to fill up the 
measure of the damnable infamy of the " Friends of 
Freedom." 

The treatment of the dauphin had now been such for 
some months, that it must inevitably end in idiotcy or in 
death. He became more and more reduced. He could 
at length hardly leave his bed, and crawl to the stone jug 
which contained his water. He lost all appetite, and his 
tasteless food was left scattered about the floor of his 
prison, which became mfested with rats, mice and the most 



186 HORRID CONDITION OF THE DAUPHIN. 

offe&sive vermin. No cleansing had taken place for 
months, and the atmosphere became putrid and poisonous. 
As a necessary consequence, the health of the Kttle sufferer 
became ruined, his frame became emaciated, his arms 
and knees were attacked with scrofulous swellings, his 
back became crooked ; and death, more merciful than the 
"Friends of Liberty," would soon have ended the woes 
of his existence. 

At this period, by some accident, it became noised 
abroad through Paris that the condition of the son of 
Louis XVL was most pitiful and miserable. The rumor 
at length reached the convention ; and curiosity induced 
that body to send Laurent, a member of the revolutionary 
committee, to examine into the state of the dauphin, and 
to assume the post of guardian over him. This person 
appears to have possessed an ordinary share of humanity, 
and to have been capable of feehng for the misfortmies of 
others. As soon as he was installed in his new post, he 
visited the ceU of the dauphin and called him by name. 
He received no answer, and immediately ordered work- 
men to remove the iron bars of the door. He entered, 
and a horrid sight indeed presented itself to view. On 
the filthy bed there appeared to be laying something in 
the shape of a child, half covered with rags ; offensive 
from the dirt with which it was covered ; unable to move 
from the position in which it then was ; and looking witL 
mingled terror and astonishment at the visitor who thus 
disturbed his accustomed sohtude. His head and neck 
were covered with sores; his wrists and knees were 
swelled enormously ; the nails of his hands and feet had 
groAvu to long claws, and his whole appearance bore the 



VISIT OF LAURENT. 187 

impress of mingled idiotcy and death. His mind seemed 
to be gone. To the various questions put to him he made 
no answer ; he only gazed with a vacant stare upon the 
intruders, and seemed striving to discern in the gloom and 
darkness of his horrid abode, their features and their 
forms. At length, being asked whether he wanted any- 
thing, he answered ^ feeble and almost inaudible ac- 
cents; ''^ I want to die!'''' 

No tithe was to be lost if their unfortunate little suf- 
ferer was to be rescued from immediate death. His 
prison was cleaned. The barred windows were opened, 
so that the Hght and air might enter. A comfortable bed 
was prepared for him. His sores were dressed. His per- 
son was washed and clean linen provided for him. His 
hair was cut and combed ; and other necessary changes 
were made in his situation. The child could not suppress 
his surprise at these marks of unaccustomed kindness ; 
and expressed his gratitude to his benefactor in the most 
touching and affecting manner. 

Notwithstanding this favorable change in the condition 
of the dauphin, his health seems to have gradually de- 
clined. The fatal work had already been accomphshed ; 
the seeds of death had been planted within him. In 
March, 1^95, Laurent obtained permission to leave his 
post in the Temple, and bade farewell to his young friend, 
who was filled with gloom at his departure. The suc- 
cessor of Laurent was named Lasne. This man had been 
a soldier, and had frequently been on guard at the Tuil- 
eries, where he had seen the dauphin, and had become 
familiar with his features and person. He immediately 
recognized the yoimg prince, and contrasted his present 



188 LASNE APPOINTED KEEPER. 

appearance and oondition with the brighter and happier 
jDeriod of his existence. Though he treated his ward with 
the greatest kindness, three weeks elapsed before he could 
get a single word from him ; so completely had terror 
and abuse subdued the spirit of the child, and filled him 
with continual apprehension. At length Lasne recalled 
to the recollection of the dauphin the httle regiment of 
boys of which he had been the commander, at the Tuile- 
ries, and the maneuvers which Lasne had himself wit- 
nessed when on duty at that palace. It was the first 
pleasing reminiscence of the past which had cheered his 
youthful spirit for many months. After that incident 
the child became affectionately free and confidant to hie 
keeper. 

But his health continued to decluio. In May, 1795, the 
convention was informed that the dauphin was danger- 
ously iU. Dessault, a distiaguished physician of Pane., 
was appointed to visit him. He expressed the opinion, 
that the child was gradually wasting away from the com- 
bined eflect of scrofulous disease, and of confinement and 
ill-usage. He recommended that the invalid should be 
sent to the country, and declared that nothing but the air 
of the country coxild revive and restore him. But this 
only remedy which could accomplish so desii'able a result, 
was positively refused. M. Dessault paid but two visits 
to the prince, and died on the first of June. There were 
those hving at the time, who said that he had poisoned 
the daujohin, and had then himself been taken off to pre- 
vent any disclosures. Others asserted that he had de- 
tected that the invalid in the Temple was not the true 
dauphin but a substituted child, and that to prevent this 



M. PELLETAN. 189 

disiiosure, he was poisoned by the authorities. The an- 
swer to all these conjectures is that M. Dessault, who 
had been the physician formerly to the royal children, 
ind knew their persons well, never expressed to any one 
any doubt as to the identity of the dauphin ; nor did he 
leave any proof on record or in existence that he enter- 
tained suoh doubts. 

After the death of Dessault, M. Pelletan was appointed 
by the committee of pubhc safety to continue the medical 
treatment of the prince. He arrived after an interval of 
six days, and found his patient in a hopeless condition. All 
that he could do was to order his removal to another 
apartment, which was better ah-ed, and had a more cheer- 
ful appearance. For a day or two the chUd seemed to re- 
vive. But the improvement was only temporary. On 
the 8th of July he again beca,me much worse. Lasne, 
who was the first to see and converse mth him, imme- 
diately discovered the traces of the advancing disease. 
At length he remarked to him, " How unhappy I am to 
see you suifering so much." The answer which he re- 
ceived was one of singular interest and mystery. " Oh 
yes," he answered, " I am suifering ; but the music is so 
sweet ! " Lasne was surprised, as weU he might be, at 
this remarkable fantasy. He knew that there was no 
music anywhere in the Temple, or in the neighborhood 
of it. He therefore asked the prince, " Where do you 
hear the music?" "Above," said he. "How long 
since ? " " Smce you have been praying. Don't you hear 
it V Listen ! " Lasne had knelt by the side of the bed, 
and had devoutly repeated several prayers. After a 
pause of surprise and pleasure, the djong chUd added with 



1 90 DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN. 

increased ecstacy, " In the midst of all the voices, I hear 
my mother's." After a further interval the child inquired, 
" Do you think my sister has heard the music ? — how hap- 
])y it would have made her." Lasne, overcome with 
emotion, could make no reply. The child turned his 
large eyes toward the opened window, and gazed intently 
upon the blue sky beyond it. His soul seemed wrought 
up to a high degree of tension, in hstening to the un- 
natural melody which was soothing his dyuig moments. 
While he appeared thus engaged his. eye began to grow 
dim, his countenance to lose its vitality, his body gradu- 
ally sank into the arms of Lasne, and in a few moments, 
without a struggle, he ceased to breathe. The perse- 
cuted prince was free ; his spirit had taken its everlasting 
flight. It was the eighth of July, 1795, a httle more than 
two years after the execution of Louis XVI. 

It might be an interesting inquiry to the philosopher 
and the psychologist, to account for the singular phe- 
nomenon just narrated, respecting the death of the dau- 
phin ; whether the hearing of the music in question is a 
proof that the spirits of the departed are permitted to 
cheer, with heavenly melody, the last moments of the 
dying ; or whether it is to be regarded as a mere delu- 
sion of the departing and exhausted spirit ; or whether 
its faculties can and do become so much strengthened, 
as its union with its clay tenement loosens, that it has 
power to hear in the spirit-land what is unheard by or- 
dinary mortals. It is not our purpose to enter into a 
philosophical or theological inquiry on this subject ; but 
it is worthy of remark that the historical truth of the 
incident in question is undoubted, and rests upon the 



MYSTERI>")US MUSIO. 191 

most satisfactory authority. Such cases are not without 
parallels in the history of minds ; though we know of 
no satisfactory solution which has yet Tbeen given of 
them. 



CEAPTER VIII. 

THE FALL OF EOBESPIBEKB AND THE MOTJNTAISr. 

Until the year 1794 the power of Robespierre contin- 
Tied to increase with amazing rapidity, and to an unpar- 
alleled magnitude. In the preceding year he had bold- 
ly accused, the most distinguished and able leaders of the 
Gii'ondists, — Brissot, Vergniaud, Gaudet, and Gensonne, 
— as being secretly attached to Dumourier, and to the 
Royalist cause ; and he had followed up that daring blow 
with attacks of such intense fury and resolution, that he 
had at ^ength dragged those eminent men to the guillo- 
tine, along with an immense number of their more ob- 
scure associates. In the next place, he had directed his 
power against the anointed and crowned head of Maria 
Antoinette — and that head, once so brilliant and beautiful, 
rolled beneath the ax of the executioner. Passing on to 
other members of the royal family, his insatiable ferocity 
foTmd new victims in the Duke of Orleans ' and Madam 
Elizabeth, the amiable sister of Louis XVI. 

Then, not satisfied with the destruction of the highest 
of earthly j)owers and dignities, and of those who bore 
them, Robespierre even dared to confront the majesty of 
heaven, and impiously decreed the abohtion of the Christian 
religion ; he denied the future immortality of the soul ; 
and elevating a half-naked prostitute of Paris on the high 
altar of the cathedral of Notre Dame, proclaimed in her 
person the universal reign of the Goddess of Reason. 



GROWTH OF ROBESPIERRE'S POWER. 193 

And when other demagogues, as desperate and as un- 
principled, but not as able as hhnself, advanced to the pos- 
session of a degree of power which endangered his own 
supremacy, he boldly struck at their heads, and sacrificed 
them, after a prodigious conflict, to his insatiable ambition. 
The powerful Danton, Hebert, and Camille Desmoulins, 
once his associates in nameless crimes, but afterward his 
rivals in the exercise of an infamous power, aU fell victims 
to his superior and jealous nature ; and expiated their 
career of blood and ambition on the scaffold. 

Then followed the cruel and bloody war in La Vendee, 
all the excesses of which seemed to be mstigated and pro- 
tected by the power of Robespierre. And indeed after 
the death of Danton and Hebert, the authority which 
Robespierre had obtamed was absolute and uncontrolled ; 
and he exercised that power to the utter desolation of his 
native land, and to the destruction of everything which 
promotes the happiness and well-being of society. Whole 
cities, such as Lyons and Nantes, were razed to the 
ground ; and thousands of their mhabitants were massa- 
cred in cold blood. The committee of public safety com- 
posed of Robespierre, St. Just, and Couthon were the pos- 
sessors of absolute authority throughout France, and of 
that memorable committee, Robespierre was the heart 
and soul, and is personally responsible for all its atrocious 
deeds. He held under his control the National Guards, 
commanded by the brutal Henriot. He ruled the moun- 
tain in the convention; he was ihe divinity of the Jacobin 
club ; and through these he governed the municipaUty and 
the departments of France. In June, 1794, Robespierre 

was more absolute in France, and far more terrible, than 
X 13 



194 AWFUL STATE OF FRANCE. 

Louis XIVo had ever been before him, or than Napoleon 
ever was after him. 

A proof of this assertion may be seen in the fact, that 
at this time, by means of his emissaries and associates, he 
had thrown seven thousand persons into the various pris- 
ons of .Paris ; and the number of those in confinement 
throughout France was two hundred thousand. Their 
condition was wretched beyond description ; and the 
amount of misery endured may be inferred from the fact, 
that the most of these prisoners were persons of respecta- 
bihty, who had been accustomed to the comforts of hfe, 
and were now deprived of everything adapted to make 
life endurable. The state of despair to which the com- 
munity was reduced, the suspicion, the fear, the perva- 
ding terror, which spread a pall of sadness and gloom 
throughout the land, it would be impossible to describe. 
Every man regarded his neighbor as his hidden foe ; and 
awaited with breathless apprehension the moment when 
his accusation would come from some unexjpected, but 
inevitable source. The ties of relationship, the power of 
affection, the suggestions of honor, the impulses of grati- 
tude, seem all to have wasted away beneath the wither- 
ing efiect of selfishness, suspicion, and hatred. The count- 
ing house of the merchant and the chateau of the noble- 
man were continually invaded by the insensate rabble un- 
der the pretext of searching for aristocrats ; and no age 
or rank or sex were secure from the fangs of these human 
harpies. 

The usual number of executions per day, during the 
height of Kobespierre's supremacy was eighty. The carts 
which conveyed the victims to the place of execution 



REVOLUTIONARY SCENES. 195 

were frequently filled with the most accomplishtid and 
beautiful women ; and with the most distinguished and 
cultivated men. The princess of Monaco, in the prime of 
her blooming loveliness, was conveyed to the scaffold in 
the same wagon side by side with some of the most dis- 
tmguished members of the Academy of Sciences ; with 
Lavoisier, the illustrious chemist ; with Florian, the elo- 
quent novelist ; with the son of Buffon the naturalist ; and 
with the daughter of Vernet the painter. And these, 
with thousands more of the victims of the insensate fe- 
rocity of the revolutionary leaders, were condemned to 
death, without any form of trial or impartial examina- 
tion whatever ; and for no possible crime, but that they 
were not as infamous and blood-stained as their persecu- 
tors, but loved order, decency, and humanity. In the city 
of Arras, Le Bon, by Robespierre's orders, executed two 
thousand persons. Twenty thousand victims more fell 
beneath the relentless fury of Carrier at ISTantes. In that 
city hundreds of children of both sexes, under the age 
of fourteen years, were shot. The shortness of their stat- 
ure occasioned the bullets m many instances to pass over 
their heads. The terrified innocents rushed forward and 
clung around the knees of their executioners, praying for 
mercy. But no mercy was shown them. They were 
murdered at the point of the bayonet. From the 10th 
of June, 1794, to the 11th. of July alone, the revolutionary 
tribunal at Paris condemned to death and executed 
twelve hundred and eighty-five persons. It will not be 
difficult to believe the truth of this enormous estimate, 
when we remember the process by which convictions 
were brought about. " Do you know of the conspiracy 



1 96 JUDICIAL JESTS. 

in the prison ? " " No." " I expected yoa would say so, 
but that will not save you. You are condemned." To 
another the question was put, "Are you not a noble?" 
" Yes." " Go — you are guilty." To a thii-d, " Are 
you not a priest ? " " Yes." " Then follow him." Some- 
times jests and jokes were used to diversify the horrors of 
the tribunal of death. An aged man who had by paraly- 
sis lost the use of his tongue, was placed at the bar. Be- 
ing unable to make any answer when accused, the judge 
said jestingly, " Very well, we don't want his tongue, 
but his head ! " 

With such feeble hopes of justice before them when 
arraigned, and with such a dread atmosphere of suspicion 
and terror around them, it may readily be beheved that 
the whole nation began to endure a Uving death, and to 
look around them for the means and the period of theii' de- 
liverance from such unspeakable thraldom. Happily, the 
day of release was not far distant. Robespierre, as is al- 
ways the case with tyrants, invited his own ruin by car- 
rying his atrocities to an extreme which no human power 
could endure. The enemies of his person and his power 
were first found among those who had been his associates 
in revolutionary violence, but whom he now determined 
to remove from his path and to destroy. 

It was to a woman, to Charlotte Corday, that the im- 
mortal honor belongs of having dehvered France from the 
detested presence and diaboHcal influence of Marat. It 
was also to a woman far more beautiiul but less virtuous 
than she, that the credit is due of having nerved the 
arm of TaUien to strike the deadly blow, at the very 
thought of which so many stout hearts trembled, but 



MADAM TALLIEN. 197 

which was necessary to deliver France from the fatal des- 
potism of Robespierre. 

It was when on a political mission to Bordeaux, that Tal- 
hen first beheld the majestic beauty of the woman who 
afterward exercised so potent an influence over his des- 
tiny. She was in feeling a royalist. She detected in the 
eloquence of Tallien a powerful instrument by which she 
might recall her countrymen back to reason and human- 
ity. She first obtained complete control over the mind 
and soul of Tallien, till at length the latter idohzed her 
with an intensity of devotion never surpassed. Then it 
was that she stirred his spirit with a mighty spell, and in- 
voMiig the nobler elements of his nature, led him to the 
determination to attempt the dehvering of his country 
fi'om the feU power of a bloody tyrant, or to perish nobly 
in the attempt. 

On the 26th of July, (8th Thermidor,) Robespierre de- 
livered a speech in the national convention, in which he 
made charges against the committee of general safety, 
and various members of the convention, as being hostile 
to hberty and to the complete triumph of the revolution. 
He urged the abolition of the committee of general safety, 
and the concentration of all power into the hands of one 
person. He urged the convention to punish with death 
all its imworthy members. Here was a demand for greater 
power, and for more blood of the representatives of the 
people. Robespierre had drawn up a list of the represen- 
tatives whom he projaosed to immolate on his bloody al- 
tar. This list was headed by the name of Tallien, and 
contained the names of Thurist, Guffroi, Bourdon de I'Oise, 
Legendre, Vadier, members of the committee of general 



198 CONSPIRACY AGAINST EOBESPIEREE 

safety, and many more. By some accident Tallien be- 
came aware of the purpose of Robespierre, and of his own 
mienviable prominence on tlie fatal catalogue. He saw 
that it was now time to strike the decisive blow ; and he 
communicated to the others proscribed, the purposes of 
Robespierre concerning themselves. The period had 
now arrived for the occurrence of one of the most furi- 
ous and deadly conflicts ever displayed in a deliberative 
assembly. The 27th of July at length dawned, a mem- 
orable day in French history. During the preceduig 
night the conspirators with Tallien at their head, had 
held a long and secret meeting, in which they had ma- 
tured their plans, and determined on the course to be pur- 
sued, "to overturn the power of the tyrant. When the 
Assembly met the next day, an air of decision and desper- 
ate determination marked the demeanor of the represen- 
tatives, indicating their purpose to succeed or perish in 
the impending struggle. 

At one o'clock, St. Just ascended the tribune, and be- 
gan to speak upon the proposition contained in the ad- 
dress of Robespierre on the preceding day. " I belong," 
said he, "to no party. I wiU oppose themaU. This trib- 
une may become a Tarpeian rock to me, when I tell you 
that the members of the convention have wandered from 
the path of Avisdom." Here Tallien, determined no longer 
to delay, arose and interrupted St. Just. "Shall you," 
said he, " arrogate to yourself the right to denounce, ac- 
cuse, and proscribe the members of this assembly ? You 
are but the satellite of a tyrant, who yesterday began to 
raise the vail before our eyes, of the horrors he stiU pro- 
poses to perpetrate. I wiU tear that vail asundei', and 



SPEECH OF f ALLIEN. 199 

will exhibit the danger in its fall extent, and the tyrant in 
his true colors." 

Robespierre had taken his seat opposite the tribune, 
determined to overawe the hostile speakers by the fierce- 
ness of his countenance. But when the clarion tones of 
Tallien's eloquence resounded throughout the hall, he be- 
gan to tremble, and his face became deadly pale. He 
would have risen to interrupt Tallien, but the energy 
and resolution of the latter were indomitable. He then 
proceeded to describe the plans of blood on which Robes- 
pierre had determined. " The massacre," said he, " was 
to have begun with the committees of public safety and 
general security, and other members of the convention. 
Let us take instant measures to prevent the purposes of 
the assassins, for they are more than one. I will name 
them. First, there is Dumas, the president of the infa- 
mous revolutionary tribunal. There is Henriot, the 
drunken commander of the National Guards. And there 
is Robespierre, the center of this blood-thirsty conspiracy, 
and his associates in the committee of public safety, St. 
Just and Couthon. Is there a voice among you, who will 
not declare that Robespierre is a tyrant? Tremble! 
wretch, tremble ! " said he, pointing to the form of Robes- 
pierre which then shook with agitation and fury before 
him. " We enjoy your agony ; and I declare, that if the 
convention refuses to pass the decree of accusation against 
you, I will plunge this dagger into your heart ; " and he 
drew forth the glittering blade, and brandished it before 
.nis foe, while the hall resounded with the acclamations of 
the deputies. 

Robespierre attempted in vain, during the loud tumult 



200 EOBESPIERRE ARRESTED. 

\^'hich followed this outburst, to obtain a hearing fi-om the 
convention. The j^resident of that body was his personal 
foe ; and whenever the distracted deputy endeavored to 
speak, he rang his bell so loudly as to drown his shriekmg 
voice. In vam Robespierre turned from one side of the 
hall to the other, imploring to be heard. " Pure and virtu- 
ous citizens," exclaimed he, " will you not permit me to 
speak?" Finding that the tumult of the assembly would 
not be calmed by the use of persuasive tones, and seeing 
their determined purpose to drown his utterance, he at 
length screamed at the top of his voice : " President of as- 
sassius ! for the last time I demand to speak ! " The tu- 
mult only increased ; and Robespierre at length sank down 
upon his seat exhausted, panting, and foaming at the mouth. 
His voice was gone, and he in vain attempted to recover his 
self-possession and his utterance. After a few moments, 
the eyes of the exulting assembly beiug stiU fixed upon the 
exasperated but enfeebled wretch, a voice exclaimed, "It 
is the blood of Danton which chokes him ! " And then 
the overthrown but unconquered despot uttered one of 
his sudden repartees, which, under the circumstances, 
is one of the finest and subUmest things recorded in his- 
tory : " Is it Danton whom you would avenge ? Wretches.^ 
why then did you not dare to defend him ! " 

Immediately the act of accusation was proposed and 
carried. Robespierre, his younger brother, Le Bas, St. 
Just, Couthon, Dmnas, and Henriot, were put under ar- 
rest, and sent to prison ; and the assembly adjourned at 
five o'clock. 

The moral dignity and grandeur of this celebrated 
scene were certainly of a high character. In the con- 



HIS REMOVAL TO THE HOTEL DE VILLE. 201 

vention Robespierre had yet many ardent adherents. 
The terror of his name was still overpowering ; he pos- 
sessed the prestige of his past immense success ; and be- 
fore that day, to have seriously opposed any measure 
which emanated from him, was the certain death-warrant 
of the bold adventurer. But on this occasion for the first 
time, the will of the blood-stained dictator was directly re- 
sisted ; and Tallien, with a degree of heroism deserving 
of immortal honor, dared not only to oppose but to stig- 
matize, to accuse, to condemn him. And then, the means 
employed to crush the will, and drown the eloquence of 
Robespierre, were peculiar. It was only a matter of 
strength of lungs between one feeble, agitated, scream- 
ing wretch, and five hundred vociferating deputies ; who, 
when the perilous pathway had once been opened by their 
heroic leader, all joined with hearty good-will in defeat- 
ing and baffling the attempts of the fallen tyrant to re- 
gain the power which he had so siiddenly lost. Robes- 
pierre, it must be confessed, possessed but a small chance 
of success with five hundred deputies doing their best to 
cough, scream and roar him under ! 

ISTo sooner however had the magistrates heard that 
Robespierre had been arrested, than they sent a force to 
Conciergerie jDrison to release him. He was immediately 
conducted to the Hotel de VUle, where he found his broth- 
er, and St. Just. They were received by the magistrates 
with acclamation. 

The assembly met again at eight o'clock the same eve- 
ning, and were informed of the release of the prisoners. 
Terror and irresolution for a few moments pervaded the 

Btoutest hearts. In this emergency, TaUien again dis< 
I* 



202 TERROR IN PARIS. 

played Ms indomitable heroism. Said he, " Everythiag 
conspires to secure the liberty of France. Robespierre, 
by resisting the decree of the assembly which declared 
him under arrest, has placed himself hors la loV The as- 
sembly instantly decreed that Robespierre and his asso- 
ciates were opposing the government. The sections were 
convoked, and Barras placed in command of them. The 
ffSnerale beat. The sections were ordered to the defense 
of the convention. The municipality were summoned to 
their bar. A message was sent to the cannoniers in the 
Place de Carousal to attack the Hotel de ViUe where 
Robespierre still remained. 

The rapid adoption of these measures saved the lives, 
and decided the fate of Tallien and his party. While 
theii- execution progressed, all Paris was in a state of the 
most fearful and anxious excitement. On every side the 
bewildered multitude hurried to and fro, uncertain what 
to do or what to beheve. The solemn tones of the loud 
tocsin resounded through the heavy air of night, carrying 
terror over the whole capital, and far beyond the barriers, 
through the adjoining country. The hundreds of pro- 
scribed persons who had been long concealed in the hid- 
den recesses of Paris, hearing the rumor which men whis- 
pered with pale lips, that Robespierre had been arrested, 
cautiously crept forth from their secret dens, to be assured 
of the glorious tidings. Even into the prisons the deep 
sounds of agitation jaenetrated. The prisoners knew that 
some great crisis was transpiring beyond their gloomy 
walls. Then- relatives and friends approached then grated 
windows, and whispered the welcome news that their 



ROBESPIERRE ATTEMPTS SUICIDE. 203 

great butcher was at length shorn of his power, and that 
they might yet escape his deadly fangs. 

Robespierre and his party still remained at the Hotel 
de Ville, hoping that the arrival of the National Guards 
would soon put an end to the doubtful conflict ; for at 
their head he had determined to march to the hostile con- 
vention, disperse them, and then resume the reins of 
power which had fallen from his grasp. But the National 
Guards had been won over by the active agents of the 
convention, and did not advance to the protection and 
support of Robespierre. Henriot, descending the stairs 
of the hotel, and finding the square in front deserted, re- 
turned in desjDair to his associates. He informed them of 
the hopeless posture of their affairs. Here was the turn- 
ing point of the revolution. At this moment had Robes- 
pierre possessed resolution sufficient to enable him to 
arouse the hesitating attachment of the National Guards, 
the cannoniers, and of the municipality, he might yet have 
succeeded in crushing the power of the convention, led on 
by Tallien, and still divided in its purpose. 

But this eloquent and pertinacious orator, Robespierre, 
was devoid of the energy and moral courage necessary to 
this great crisis. As soon as Henriot informed him that 
the National Guard had failed to march to the Hotel de 
ViUe, he gave himself up to despair. At this moment, 
determined not to fall into the hands of his enemies, he 
discharged his pistol at his head. He escaped immediate 
death, but inflicted a frightful wound on his lower jaw. 
Le Bas blew out his own brains. Couthon attempted to 
stab himself, but had not courage to accompUsh the deed. 



204 HIS EXECUTION. 

CofEnhal and the younger Robespierre endeavored to ea. 
caj)e hj the window. 

ThS bleeding body of Robespierre was soon dragged 
by the mob to the assembly. They refused to admit him ; 
he was then conveyed, together with Couthon, to the hall 
of the committee of general safety, where they lay for 
nine hours, their wounds stiU bleeding, stretched upon a 
table on which they had signed the death warrants of 
thousands of their victims. From this spot, on the next 
morning, they were conveyed to the revolutionary tribu- 
nal, where, with a raj^idity of process which they had 
themselves so often used, they were immediately con- 
demned to death. 

Early in the morning of the 29th of July, all Paris was 
in eager motion, to witness the righteous retribution 
about to be inflicted on the fallen tyrant. He was placed 
in a wagon between Heni'iot and Couthon, and com- 
menced that dismal journey on which he had sent so 
many of his fellow creatures, in the prime of life and hope. 
Along the route the immense multitude gave utterance 
to then- joy in loud shouts of exultation. He was con- 
ducted to the Place de la Revolution, the spot on which 
his illustrious victims, Louis XVI. and his unfortunate 
queen, had expired. When the bandage which confined 
his broken jaw broke, the blood overflowed his dress. 
Ere he reached the spot, frantic men and women, ap- 
proaching the wagon, hurled the bitterest curses against 
him. Said one, " Murderer of all my kindred, descend to 
heU, burdened with the execrations of every mother in 
France ! " When the executioner tore oflf the bandage 
which supported his jaw, it fell to the ground ; and he 



RESULTS OF THE REIGN OF TERROR. 205 

Uttered a yell, which filled the gazmg multitude with hor- 
roi*. As the ax descended which severed from its body 
the head which had been the greatest curse which ever 
afflicted France, the shouts and exultation of the vast 
multitude shook the earth, and resounded far and wide 
over the desolated city. 

The amount of misery which this great, bad man in- 
flicted on his unhappy country, during the several years 
of his fatal supremacy, can scarcely be computed. Some 
idea however may be formed from the actual number of 
executions which took place during this period of the 
revolution. It has been accurately computed by Prud- 
homme, that there were slain one thousand two hundred 
and seventy-eight noblemen, seven hundred and fifty no- 
ble women ; of wives of laborers and artisans one thou- 
sand four hundred and sixty-seven; of nuns, three hundred 
and fifty ; of priests, one thousand one hvuidred and thirty- 
five ; of common people, thirteen thousand six hundred 
and twenty-three. Of those guillotined by the revolu- 
tionary tribunals, there were eighteen thousand six hun- 
dred. Of men slain in La Vendee, there were nine hun- 
dred thousand. Of the victims of Carrier at Nantes, there 
were thirty-two thousand. Of women killed in La Ven- 
dee, there were fifteen thousand ; makmg a sum total, 
mcluding a few other items, of one million and twenty- 
two thousand persons, of aU ranks and ages, immolated 
on the bloody altar of revolutionary fury and violence. 
Such were the terrific consequences of the perverted tal- 
ents of these revolutionary heroes. 

And yet it is related, that until a few years since two 
maiden sisters of Robespierre survived at Paris, living in 



206 STATE OF FRANCE. 

genteel retirement, and that they always expressed as- 
tonishment at the censure and execrations which were 
heaped upon the head of their brother throughout the 
civilized world ! They only remembered him as an affec- 
tionate relative, who had provided for their wants with 
fraternal sohcitude, and they could not comprehend how 
such a man as they knew their brother to have been, 
could ever display quahties so savage and ferocious as 
those which were universally ascribed to him. It was 
indeed an impressive commentary on the undying strength 
of a sister's attachment, that the only Hps which ever ut- 
tered words of esteem or regard for the fallen and mur- 
derous Jacobin throughout all the world, were those of 
the two persons to whom we have just referred ! 

When the head of Robesf)ierre and his associates fell 
beneath the avenging ax of the guillotine, they left France 
in a state of prostration, poverty, and ruin, of which the 
mind can scarcely form any conception. The monthly 
expenses of the revolutionary government had been three 
hundred millions of francs. The receipts of the treasury 
never exceeded one thii'd of this sum. The only possible 
mode of supplying this deficiency, was by the issue of 
assignats, or paper-money ; which were intended to pass 
at par, but which soon fell to one-twentieth of its nominal 
value. The losses of those who held this worthless 
scrip may readily be imagined. The whole • nation be- 
came afflicted with a grinding poverty. The nobles had 
aU been despoiled of their wealth ; and the middle classes 
were oppressed by the issue and depreciation of the pa- 
per currency. Excitement, idleness, and debauchery had 
rendered the lower orders more impoverished than ever, 



PREVALENT POVERTY. 207 

Hence the degree of wretchedness which existed will scarce- 
ly be credited. Even the highest servants of the govern- • 
ment subsisted on the most trifling j)ittances. Pichegru, 
at the head of an army of fifty thousand men, received 
only forty dollars per month. The gifted Soche^ com- 
mander of the army of La Vendee, composed of one hun- 
dred thousand men, wrote to the convention asking them 
to procure hitn a horse, as he was utterly without meana 
to obtain one. And if such was the state of destitution 
which afflicted men of the highest eminence in rank and 
power, how much more desperate must have been the 
condition of the multitudes who occupied inferior stations, 
both in the public service and in private life. 

Then in addition to these pecuniary distresses, imagine 
a whole nation clad in the deepest mourning, for the mur- 
der of a million of its noblest and best citizens! The 
country was covered far and near with chateaux sacked 
and burned ; with villages desolated ; with crops destroy- 
ed; with all the implements of husbandry, and all the ma- 
terials for manufactures, lost and ruined. It must surely 
be admitted that if ever, in the blood-stained history of 
this earth, any nation presented a close resemblance to all 
the horrors of Pandemonium, France, once the land of 
gay revelry, of refinement, and of distinction in art, let- 
ters, and every form of elegance and magnificence, pre- 
sented that resemblance, when she lay agonizing beneath 
the deadly fangs of the demons of revolution, debauchery 
and infidehty. 

After the death of Robespierre and his most infamous 
accomjDlices, the convention received an infusion of the 
fi'iends of order and constitutional government. After 



203 ESTABLISHMENT OF THE DIRECTORY. 

a severe struggle a new constitution was prepared ; and 
on the 4tli of October, 1795, the government took the 
form of two representative bodies called the councils, 
together with an executive branch consisting of five per- 
sons denommated the directory. The oifioers selected 
were Moulin, Gohier, Sieyes, Barras, and Roger-Ducos. 
While these men feebly guided the destinies of France, 
the meteor-star of Napoleon^s glory suddenly arose on the 
rugged isle of Corsica ; and began from the ensanguined 
plains of Italy to cast abroad its bright effulgence ovoj- 
the continent of Europe. 



CHAPTER IX. 

napoleon's expedition to EGYPT. 

From his earliest youth, the glowing imagination of 
Napoleon had been haunted by the brilliant idea of es- 
tablishing anew empire in the east. There was to him a 
nameless grandeur and romance in the project, of leaving 
behind him the effete and worn out climes of Europe, and 
invading with a mighty and irresistible armament, those 
same coimtries which had witnessed, two thousand years 
before, the triumphant march of Alexander's legions ; and 
of establishing there an empire as magnificent but more 
durable than his. There was a novelty and glory in the 
idea of a bold and gifted adventurer from the west, such 
as himself, of advancing as a conqueror without an invita- 
tion or a warning through the remote and unique climes 
of the east ; and his mind glowed with a new rapture at 
the thought of erecting on the ruins of crumbling oriental 
dynasties, a throne of stupendous majesty and power, 
which would not only surpass those of all other eastern 
potentates, but also one which would extort the admii'a- 
tion of the monarchs of Europe itself. 

Of all the countries of the east, Egypt was on many ac- 
counts the most important and suitable, as an incipient 
conquest. It was an immense country, possessed of vast 
resources. It was stUl a dependency on the feeble crumb- 
ling scepter of the sultan. It was the highway of Eng- 

14 



210 NAPOLEON'S BRILLIANT CONCEPTIONS. 

land, Holland, and other great commercial communitiea 
of Em-ope, to their rich possessions in the east. It was a 
central comitry from which, having made a triumphant 
beginning to his vast career of conquest, he could extend 
his 'power to Abyssinia, to Arabia, to Persia, and other 
neighboring countries. His majestic and powerful fleets 
could ride securely on the Nile; whose broad bosom 
would be covered, by his means, with the rich commerce 
of the world. The waters of the Mediterranean would 
waft to his dominions the luxuries and j^olished products 
of the west. The Red Sea would form a convenient chan- 
nel through which he could secure the rich and rare com- 
modities of the farther east — of Chma and the Indies, 
The Grand Cairo would form a capital whose magnifi- 
cence and extent, whose gorgeous palaces and luxuriant 
gardens would be worthy of so great and powerful an 
empire ; while Alexandria, renovated by him fi'om the 
crumbling decrepitude of ages, would regain her pristine 
splendor, and become a fit sea-port for an empire to 
which the commerce, the arts, refinement, and luxury of 
the world had, by so sudden, yet so potent a charm, been 
irresistibly attracted. 

Such were some of the brilliant phantasies which 
glowed in the ardent mind of Napoleon. After his suc- 
cessful career in Italy he returned to Paris, and was re- 
ceived by the directory in the Luxembourg palace, with 
great state and splendor. Tie colors taken from the 
Austrians in Italy were presented by him to the directory, 
together with a copy of the treaty of Campo Formio, 
in which the most humiliating concessions had been made 
by Austria to France, After his return, however, Na- 



THE DESCENT ON ENGLAND. 211 

poleon's mind was not unoccupied, though he was not 
engaged in any public trust. His brilhant victories in 
Italy had already won him an European reputation, and 
he was balancing in' his restless and sagacious mind the 
course which it behooved him next to pursvie. 

To remain long idle in Paris was not in the nature of 
Bonaparte. Besides, he had now become so powerful, 
that he was already an object of jealousy to the directory. 
If he aspired to a place with them m the government, they 
knew that he would soon become absolute ruler, and 
they absolute cyphers. If he did not obtain a seat in the 
directory, they feared, and with justice, that he would be- 
come the center of all the discontented intriguers and ad- 
venturers in the capital, and might soon ascend to the pos- 
session of power over their ruins. In either case, to per- 
mit Napoleon to remain long unoccupied at Paris was 
the presage of ruin to the directory. Hence it was that 
in January, 1798, at the suggestion of Barras he was ap- 
pointed to the command of the army of England, But 
after carefully examinmg the coasts of the British chan- 
nel on both sides, he came to the sagacious conclusion, 
that the time for the invasion of England had not yet 
arrived. Accordingly, he decUned the appointment 
which had been tendered him. His mind again reverted 
to his schemes of oriental conquest ; and after a short in- 
terval he persuaded the directory to appropriate the 
armament intended for the descent upon England to the 
expedition to the east. The principal motive which in- 
duced Barras and the directory to acquiesce in a project 
which to their short-sighted vision ajDpeared chimerical in 
the extreme, was the same prudent wish to get rid of the 



212 NAPOLEON'S PREPARATIONS. 

insatiable ambition and the dangerous popularity of the 
conqueror of Italy. They indulged the secret hope that 
both of these would find an early and a nameless grave 
beneath the treacherous and shifting sands of Lybia. 

The preparations made by If apoleon for this memora- 
ble expedition, were on a large and magnificent scale. He 
obf;ained from the directory the appropriation of forty 
thousand of the best troops of the army of Italy, The 
fleet of Admiral Bruyes, composed of thirteen ships of 
ihe line and fourteen frigates, was placed under his or- 
dei 1, Three millions of francs which had been seized by 
the dii-ectory at Berne — the ancient and long accumulated 
trersure of that repubhc, the product of Swiss industry 
and economy for two hundred years — was granted for 
the purpose of defraying the expenses of the expedition. 
To the possession of this .cherished store of the Bernese 
republicans, the directory had no other claim, whatever, 
than the claim of the stronger over the weaker, of the 
triumphant over the defenseless. 

It was on the 19th of May, 1798, that the French fleet 
set sail from the port of Toulon. This magnificent arma- 
ment had been considerably augmented by the indefati- 
gable exertions of Napoleon. It now consisted of thir- 
teen ships of the line, sixteen frigates, seventy-two brigs, 
and four hundred transports. It carried thirty-six thou- 
sand soldiers of every description, and ten thousand sail- 
ors. Napoleon sailed first to Ajaccio, and Civita Cas- 
tellana, and there united with his fleet the squadrons then 
cruising in those ports. With his force thus increased, 
he set sail for Malta; and on the 10th of June he hove 
in sight of the imposing and magnificent works of that 



THE KNIGHTS OF MALTA. 213 

celebrated fortress which extended for several miles sa,long 
the horizon, presenting a front of vast extent and mag- 
nitude. 

It was Napoleon's purpose to storm the fortifications ; 
but the necessity for hostile measures was obviated by the 
successful intrigues which he had for some time past been 
carrying on with the grand master and the leading 
knights of the order of St. John. Baron Hompesch, the 
grand master, after considerable secret negotiation Avith 
Napoleon, had stipulated that he would surrender the 
fortress, on condition that he should receive six hundred 
thousand francs, a principality in Germany, or a pension 
for life of three hundred thousand francs ; and that the 
French cavaliers should receive a pension of seven hun- 
dred francs a year each, for life. On these ignoble terms 
this ancient fortress, so ren owned in the history of chris- 
tian warfare and chivalry, .was surrendered; with the pos- 
session of aU its vast bulwarks, splendid churches, magnif- 
icent palaces, and'the treasures of plate and munitions of 
war, which the noble knights of previous ages had secured 
and erected as the fruit of many memorable achievements 
of heroism and fortitude. 

Napoleon gazed with rapture on the innumerable forti- 
fications which he had so easily won. The luxury and 
splendor of the palaces which the successive grand mas- 
ters had erected, filled him and his ofiicers with admira- 
tion and astonishment. So deep was the harbor, that the 
L'Orient, a vessel so immensely large that it had grornid- 
ed on leaving the port of Toulon, sailed up without ob- 
struction to the very quay ; and its extent was so great, 
that six hundred ships of the Hue could securely and con- 



2i4 CAPTURE OF ALEXANDRIA. 

veniently ride within it. Napoleon strongly manned ali 
the batteries with detachments of his own troops ; and on 
the 19th of Jmie set sail for the coast of Egypt. 

On the 1st of July the French fleet came in sight of 
the low coast of that country. Napoleon narrowly es- 
ca}5ed the English fleet under Lord Nelson, which had 
been scouring the seas for some weeks, in eager search of 
him. The English fleet had only deserted the roads two 
days before the arrival of the French armament ; and it is 
certain, that if the hero of Trafalgar had then fallen in 
with the object of his pursuit, a furious battle would have 
ensued, which would materially have altered the fortunes 
of the world. The English commander would undoubted- 
ly have achieved a signal \dctory, because his force was 
superior to that of the French, and the latter were en- 
cumbered with the vast number of land troops which the 
fleet was conveying to Egypt. The sea would have been 
strewed with wrecks of the French fleet ; thousands would 
have fotmd a watery grave ; and this bold and wonderful 
expedition would have had a premature and an inglorious 
termination. 

But a more brilliant fate was reserved for the adven- 
turous Corsican. Exulting in the narrow escape which 
he had just made, he ordered Ms troops instantly to dis- 
embark. Early the next day he advanced at the head of 
five thousand men and attacked the ramparts of the city 
of Alexandria, which were defended by an insufiicient 
number of Mamelukes. After a short conflict the latter 
were driven from their posts ; the gates were opened, and 
the French troops entered on their first conquest in Egypt. 
They found the city, wliich the mighty Alexander l.ad 



THE STATE OF THAT CITY. 215 

founded, a confused mass of magnificence and ruin. Yet 
as a presage of future triumph, its subjugation was an 
event of great importance. The invaders were quartered 
in the city, which they found already impoverished and 
reduced by misfortunes and grinding exactions, to a most 
lamentable degree. The harbor which was situated in 
one of the mouths of the ISTile, was nearly choked up with 
sand. No ships could now approach the spot where once 
all the navies of the world could easily and securely ride 
at anchor. The city was ruled by the Mamelukes, a body 
of Turkish soldiers, who had been sent by the sultan to 
exercise civil and military authority over the abject and 
feeble Egyptians. The Mamelukes themselves were un- 
der the authority of their Beys, officers conferred directly 
by the sultan. 

Having garrisoned the works of Ale«:andria with as 
many of his own troops as were necessary for its defense, 
Napoleon determined immediately to advance into the 
interior of the country. The grand Cairo, the ancient 
capital of Egypt, was the next object of the invader's am- 
bition ; and he resolved instantly to commence the 
perilous march across the desert to reach it. 

From Alexandria to Cairo the pathway lay across the 
treacherous sands of a sterile waste, some three hundred 
miles in extent. This boundless plain of sand was cheered 
and reheved neither by shade nor water ; for no tree oi^ 
bush could draw subsistence from the barren soU, and the 
few wells which existed had been filled up by the Bedow- 
ins, the untamed children of the desert. A tropical sun 
poured down its burning rays on the troops, and scorched 
and seared every living thmg. The fine, Ught sands came 



216 THE MARCH IN THE DESERT. 

floating along in clouds over the plain, and filled the eyea 
and mouths of the parched and thirsty travelers. The 
hostile Ai'abs hovered around the advancuig columns, and 
harassed them with unceasing attacks. Every now and 
then, the exhausted troops were cheered by a deUcious 
vision in the far distance, of a calm and refreshing lake, 
reposing on the bosom of the wilderness. They shouted 
for joy, and rapidly advanced to plunge into its coohng 
and invigorating waters. They approached the spot, and 
found that they had been deceived by the mirage of the 
desert ; and disappointment and deep despair began to 
overwhelm the spirits of the most daring and intrepid. 

It would require at least a week for the French army 
to pass through the desert ; and already on the third 
day, the most horrible disasters had befallen them. Their 
suiferings from thirst had already become unendurable. 
Hundreds of men, horses, and camels had perished by the 
way, from want of water. Even the intrepid Lannes and 
Murat threw themselves on the ground, and rolled upon 
it in paroxysms of despair. The drifting-sands destroyed 
the eyesight of hundreds of the soldiers. Their eyeballs 
rotted and fell out. Desaix, who commanded the van- 
guard, sent a courier to ISTapoleon in the rear, declaring 
that if the army did not hasten forward vnth the utmost 
rapidity, it would perish. " The whole desert," said he, 
" does not contain water enough for a thousand men, and 
we are thirty thousand. For heaven's sake do not leave 
us in this situation, but give the order either to retire 
rapidly or to advance. I am in despair, at being com 
pelled to write to you in the language of desponden ey ; 



THE NILE. 217 

but when we have escaped our present horrible position, 
I hope my usual firmness will return." 

At length, after a march of a week marked by the most 
noriible sufferings, and by considerable losses, the parched 
and wearied army arrived in sight of the wished-for Nile, 
and beheld its bright, silver stream rolling sluggishly 
along before them, ghttering on the bosom of the desert. 
The ranks were unmediately broken, and the tumultuous 
crowd rushed with rapture to the banks of the river, to 
quench their burning thirst. Many even threw them- 
selves into the cool and flowing flood, and all forgot, in 
the gratification of the present moment, the mortal ago- 
nies of the past. 

After resting for several days on the welcome banks 
of the river, the French army resumed its march along 
the stream toward Cairo. For seven days the journey 
continued. The troops passed through a deserted coun- 
try, from which all the inhabitants had fled in terror. At 
length, on the 21st of July, ISTapoleon, riding at the head 
of his columns, first beheld with rapture the distant sum- 
mits of the mighty , pyramids, and not far off, the ghtter- 
ing minarets of the capital of Egypt. 

To resist the approach of the invaders, Mourad Bey, at 
that time governor of Egypt under the Porte, had col- 
lected together all his best troops, consisting of eight thou- 
sand Mameluke cavalry — the most sj^lendid and effective 
in the world — together with ten thousand Arabs, Copts, 
and Fellaks. His camp on the bank of the Nile was de- 
fended by forty pieces of artillery. It was also protected 
by rude field-works ; and the force thus opposed to the 
French army was altogether the most formidable which 



218 THE PYRAMIDS. 

had been mustered in Egypt for many years. His army 
was already drawn out on the plain in battle array, to 
oppose the further advance of the French. 

Napoleon immediately made his dispositions for tbe 
battle. He formed his columns into hollow squares, and 
advanced to the attack. It was an anxious moment. In 
a far distant cHme, a few adventurers vs^ere now about, 
for the first time, to meet a formidable foe. Defeat would 
be synonymous with destruction. Napoleon in a few 
words eloquently harangued his troops. Pointing to- 
ward the jDyramids, whose vast summits loomed far up 
solemnly and subUmely iuto the clear, azure heavens be- 
fore them, he said, "Remember, that from the top of 
those pyramids forty centuries contemplate your conduct 
in this battle ! " 

Mourad Bey, perceiving that the French had formed in 
order of battle, and were slovfly advancing, detached his 
eight thousand Mameluke cavalry from the rest, and ap- 
proached the hostile squares at the height of their speed. 
These troops presented an imposing and magnificent ap- 
pearance. They were splendidly accoutred, and the har- 
ness of their powerful horses glittered with silver mount- 
ings. The beys were all around with cimeters and pis- 
tols; and as their long line rapidly advanced over the 
plain, the earth shook beneath their heavy tread; and 
the shock which ensued, when they clashed with the ad- 
vancing columns of the French, was prodigious. At the 
first collision several of the squares of the latter were 
broken. But they were soon reformed again, and the 
rolHng fire of their musketry did tremendous execution 
among the serried ranks of the Egyptian cavalry. The 



BATTLE OF THE PYRAMIDS. 219 

Latter, in their desperation, exerted themselves to break 
the solid squares of the French ; but in vain. Slowly they 
rode around them, and whenever they could perceive the 
slightest chasm, they attempted to dash in and penetrate. 
These few, more successful than the rest, soon were dis- 
patched, and the squares again closed over and around 
then* prostrate bodies. Again and again they dashed 
their horses against those ramparts of steel, but could not 
break them ; and they gradually wasted away beneath 
the flaming walls of unremitting fire, upon whose deadly 
and immovable front they could make no impression. 

After an hour's hard fighting, the Mamelukes began to 
discover the hopelessness of their endeavors to produce 
any effect whatever upon the squares of the French, and 
panic began to spread through theu' ranks. Several thou- 
sand were already slain, and at length the rest took to 
flight. Theyretreated toward the pyramids. The French, 
adroitly extending their squares like a fan, pursued them. 
They attacked the entrenched camp, and soon the works, 
together wiih. aU the ammunition and baggage of the 
Mamelukes, fell into the hands of the French. Seeing the 
total rout of his army, Mourad Bey fled with the remains 
of his once formidable cavalry across the desert into Up- 
per Egypt, and the proud conqueror of the " Battle of 
the Pyramids," entered Cairo, and quartered his troops 
m its sumptuous palaces without the least resistance. 

Plunged into the great vortex of oriental luxury in the 
capital of Egypt, the French army for a short time seemed 
to have realized their most romantic dreams ; wnile Bona- 
parte, in swaying the scej)ter of the ancient Ptolemies, for 
a moment may have imagined that his ambitious projects 



220 NAPOLEON REIGNS IN CAIRO. 

in the east were about to be accomplislied. He endeav- 
ored to obtain the confidence of the inhabitants of Cairo, 
by joining with them in their rehgious ceremonies. He 
permitted the imans still to administer justice as before. 
He disturbed none of the municipal arrangements of the 
city. He only held with a firm hand the reins of pohti 
cal authority. The consequence was that the Egyptians, 
for the first time in then* lives, enjoyed the advantages of 
a regular and impartial government ; and soon the evi- 
dent benefits which resulted from the presence and su- 
premacy of the invaders, made the vanquished hug and 
cherish the chains which bound them. 

But after a short time spent in the full enjoyment of 
the novel luxuries and pleasures of the Egyptian capital, 
the French troops began to weary of them. The monoto- 
ny of eastern hfe soon commenced to pall upon their 
senses, and they felt an u-resistible inchnation to return 
to their home in the west. Even the pi'oject of further 
conquest in the east had lost* aU. its charms for them. 
They had secured and enjoyed the richest conquest which 
that whole hemisphere contained ; and of it they had al- 
ready become satiated and disgusted. At length the 
disaiFection become so great, that Napoleon threatened 
to shoot any one, oflicer or private, who would dare to 
speak to him in reference to the project of abandoning 
^he expedition. 

On the first of August, 1798, was fought the celebrated 
battle of the Nile, between the fleets of France and Eng- 
land — a battle so disastrous to the power and supremacy 
of France in the east. The number of vessels in each 
fleet was about equal. Nelson commanded on board his 



BATTLE OF THE NILE. 221 

^'essels ten thousand men and ten hundred and twelve 
guns. The French admiral, Bruyes, had eleven thousand 
men and eleven hundred and mnety-six guns. The Brit- 
ish ships were all seventy-fours, while several of those of 
the French were much heavier, some carrying eighty 
guns, some one hundred and one — the celebrated flag-ship, 
the L'Orient, one hundred and twenty guns. The French 
fleet lay at anchor in the bay of Aboukir, admirably dis- 
posed in line of battle, in front of the harbor of Alexan- 
dria, which they had been unable to enter in consequence 
of the shoals of sand which obstructed its mouth. Nel- 
son, having reconnoitred the position of his foe, deter- 
mined to force his way through his line, and thus double 
his whole fleet around a part of the line of the French 
ships. The advantage gained by this novel and sagacious 
device was evinced by the issue of the battle. 

This memorable conflict began at three o'clock in the 
afternoon. The shores of the bay were covered with 
thousands of Arabs and Egyptians, who beheld with awe 
and wonder the horrible havoc, and the prodigious skUl 
and fortitude displayed by the two foremost nations of 
the world, in a great conflict which all felt would be deci- 
sive and memorable in the history of their own country, 
and in that of the powerful and bold invaders who had so 
suddenly appeared in their midst. The combatants them- 
selves were fully conscious of the vast importance of the 
occasion. Nelson had been scouring the seas in pursuit 
of the French fleet ever since the surrender of Malta. 
For days he had neither eaten nor slept. At length, when 
he saw the object of his search advantageously anchored 
in Ime of battle, his exultation was extreme, and he in- 



222 SUBLIMITY OF THE SCENE. • 

ttantly gave the signal for action. The French on iheii 
side were equally ready and eager for the conflict. They 
had waited long, in a state of inactivity, for the decisive 
moment to arrive ; and the vast size of their vessels, ana 
their advantageous position, led them to indulge in the 
hope of certain victory. Their admiral, Bruyes, was the 
most experienced and distinguished seaman of whom 
their country could boast, and every circumstance con- 
spired to give them confidence. 

As the English ships, the Leander, the CuUoden, the 
Alexander, and the Swiftsure, passed withui the line of 
the French vessels, they suffered severely fi'om the tre- 
mendous raking fire of the French ; but no sooner had 
they taken up their positions — one vessel on the outer 
bow, and another on the outer quarter of the French 
ships — than the tide of conquest began to turn. The con- 
flict was tremendous. The combatants fought with des- 
perate courage ; and seemed determined to end the con- 
flict only with victory or death. The scene was fearfully 
sublune. When the darkness of evening settled down 
over the contending fleets, the horizon was illuminated 
for many miles by the incessant discharge of two thousand 
pieces ' of artillery, and the earth and ocean shook with 
the prodigious concussion. The vast sea of blazing fire 
appeared like some fierce volcano, whose mouth belched 
forth an ocean of flame in the midst of the watery waste. 

At length, by nine o'clock, the English had obtained a 
complete and unparalleled victory. About that time ^the 
L' Orient, a vast ship of one hundred and twenty guns, 
which carried the French admiral, was found to be on fire, 
and soon the flames extended beyond the possibility of 



EXPLOSION OF THE L'ORIENT. 223 

their being subdued. As the fire approached the magazine, 
many of the sailors and officers fled from the ship ; but 
her commander determined to die the death of the heroic 
and imconquerable ; and remained on board. At length, 
at ten o'clock the explosion took place. The concussion 
was terrific — without a parallel in ancient or modern war- 
fare. The earth and sea shook for miles around, and soon 
after, the burning fragments of the unfortmiate vessel fell 
from the prodigious height to which they had been car- 
ried, far and wide over the fleets. The sea was now cov- 
ered with the floating, burning, and shattered wrecks of 
the French ships ; and when daylight dawned upon the 
horrid scene, a spectable was presented which has no par- 
allel in naval history. Not a single ship except two re- 
mained in the possession of the French, of all that vast 
and imposmg armament, which on the day before had 
defied the world, and rode triumphantly upon the wave. 
The GuiUaume Tell and the Generaux alone escaped, to 
carry back to France the dreadful story of this unequaled 
and memorable disaster. All the other ships of the 
French fleet fell into the possession of the English ; ex- 
cept the L'Orient and La Serieuse, which had sunk. Eight 
thousand of the French troops had been wounded or slain. 
Admiral Bruyes perished with his vessel. For twelve 
miles the shore was covered with fragments of the wrecks, 
and the surface of the sea was filled with the floating bod- 
ies of the dead. The commanders of all the French ves- 
sels had been either kUled or wounded. The English had 
lost but nine hundred men in killed and wounded, in that 
dreadful conflict. 
Tliis battle was the death-blow to French conquest in 



224 RIOT IN CARIO. 

the east. Napoleon heard the disastrous news at Cairo, 
and for a moment, even his daring and desperate courage 
was appalled and overpowered by the magnitude of the 
disaster. Despair completely prostrated the minds of 
the French soldiers, and with the impulsive ardor of their 
nation, many blew out their brains, and others threw 
themselves into the Nile. The troops now saw that their 
only means of transport to their native land had been 
taken away fi-om them ; and they felt as if doomed to die 
in a strange land, eternal exiles from the homes which 
they now loved the more intensely, as the prospect of re- 
turning to them became the more remote and uncertain. 

Disasters accumulated around the unfortunate invaders. 
Immediately on receiving intelligence of the battle of the 
Nile, the sultan formally declared war against France. 
At the same time, an insurrection against the French oc- 
curred in the streets of Cairo. The Turks took refuge in 
the mosques against the forces ordered out by Napoleon 
to suppress the riot ; and some of these sacred edifices 
were assaulted and battered to the ground. After five 
thousand of the inhabitants had been slain, order and peace 
was again restored. 

It was not diflBcult for a man of Napoleon's sagacity 
to discover, that the only means of counteracting the effect 
of all these disasters, of saving himself from disgrace, and 
his army from ruin, was to commence active operations 
on the offensive, and by some new and bold conquest 
again to overawe the vacillating inhabitants of the east. 
Accordingly, he ordered Desaix to march with a strong 
detachment of troops into Upper Egypt, and there pursue 
and attack the broken remains of Mourad Bey's troops. 



INVASION OF SYRIA. 225 

On the 1'th of Octobei' Desaix with tw^ty-five hundred 
men attacked the Turks at Sidiman, numbering four thou- 
sand Mamekikes and six thousand Fellahs, and again the 
hollow squares into which the French were formed, defied 
the fiercest assaults of the heavy cavah*y, and at the same 
tune mowed down, with their contmuous rolling fire, 
the serried ranks of their assailants. The Egyptians and 
Turks were again defeated with great slaughter ; and the 
battle was decisive of the future fate of Upper Egyj)t. 
The French advanced through the rich country, until at 
last they rested in triumph beneath the shade of the 
stupendous ruins of Luxor, and of the mighty sphinxes 
and sepulchral monuments of Thebes. 

In pursuance of his plan of continued conquest Napo- 
leon meanwhile determined to anticipate the attacks which 
he expected from the sultan's power, by an hostile inva- 
sion into Syria ; where the sultan was then assembling a 
formidable force. On the 11th of February, 1799, he 
commenced his march, over the desert which marks the 
confines of the two contments, Africa and Asia. In six 
days he reached El Arish, where he defeated the Mame- 
lukes, assaulted their camp, and stormed the fortress. 
Having continued his march toward Palestine, he at 
length entered that celebrated country on the 4th of 
March. The first town and fortress that lay in his way 
was Jafia, the Joppa of sacred antiquity. The garrison 
resisted valiantly ; but after a fierce and continued con- 
flict of several days, the works were carried, and the town 
was given over to all the horrors of war. Four thousand 
troops of the garrison became prisoners ; and in the hor- 
rible fate which soon awaited them, is found the blackest 
J* 15 



226 FOUR THOUSAND PRISONERS SHOT. 

stigma of infamy, perfidy, and atrocious inhumanity 
which disgraces the whole career of Napoleon — a career 
not otherwise devoid of scenes of sanguinary ferocity. 
These prisoners were disarmed ; but it was a question of 
much more difficulty to determine what was afterward 
to be done with four thousand prisoners, under the pecu- 
liar circumstances in which the triumphant invaders were 
then placed. 

During two days this difficult question was debated in 
a council of war. It was urged if these prisoners were 
released, though unarmed, they would at once unite with 
the hostile ranks of the Turks at Acre, or with the Arabs 
of the desert who contiauaUy harassed the rear and flanks 
of the army. If they were retained and guarded in cap- 
tivity by the French troops, it would be impossible to find 
subsistence for them. The difficulty of procuring rations 
for the French soldiers was already very great. At the 
same time, the difficulty of guarding so large a body of 
prisoners was immense ; and would require the services 
of half the army. IsTajDoleon resolved at last that they 
should be shot, as the only expedient which it was safe to 
adopt under the circumstances ! In pursuance of this 
bloody and inhuman purpose, these four thousand defense- 
less human beiags were marched handcufiEed down to the 
sandy shore of the sea-coast, were formed into small squares 
and there were dehberately shot down iu cold blood by 
continued discharges of musketry ! Several hours were 
occupied in the execution of this terrible and diabolical 
decree ; and the horrors of the scene are said to have sur- 
passed aU that has ever occurred, amid the heat and fury 
of conflicts on the battle field. 



SIEGE OF ACRE. 22 V 

After defiling his name and character with the eternal 
stigma of this massacre, ISTapoleon again resumed his 
march. After various conflicts with the Turkish forces, 
he was rapidly approachiag the celebrated fortress of 
Acre. On the 16th of March the French army arrived 
under its walls. The pacha of Syria had taken refuge 
within them, with all his artiUery, his treasures, and his 
armes ; and had determined to defend them to the very 
last extremity. During the progress of this memorable 
siege the utmost heroism and desperate valor were dis- 
played on both sides. The Turks were mcited to their 
greatest exertions by the horror produced by the massa- 
cre which had just taken place at Jaifa ; and they justly 
feared a similar fate, if they fell into the hands of the vic- 
torious and implacable French. The latter on their side 
saw before them the vast fortifications of a city, the pos- 
session of which was of the most vital importance to 
them. Should they fail before Acre their march of con- 
quest was forever ended in the east. They could not ad- 
vance a step farther, and leave so important a place be- 
hind them, in the hands of a powerful and desperate foe. 
As Napoleon remarked with his usu.al sagacity, pointing 
to the great tower of the fortress, " The fate of the east 
lies m yonder fort ; the fall of Acre alone wiU lead to the 
possession of Damascus, and to the submission of Aleppo ! " 

Both sides were fully conscious of the vast importance 
of the fortress, to their respective interests ; and this 
consciousness gave a degree of desperation to the con- 
flicts which took place around and within its walls, which 
is not exceeded in the annals of warfare. We will not at- 
tempt to describe the prodigious exertions of the besieg- 



^28 DEFEAT OF NAPOLEON. 

ers, led on by the vast genius of Napoleon himself; nor 
will we endeavor to depict the heroism and desperate 
resolution displayed by the besieged during the many as- 
saults made upon the works. 

The siege continued until the 20th of. May. During 
Its progress the French had several times forced an en- 
trance within the waUs, and had been as often repulsed 
with great losses by the Turks. The utmost efforts of 
valor and skill could not triumph over the immense strength 
of the fortress when defended by such heroism as then ac- 
tuated the enraged, desperate and implacable Ottomans. 

At length, the white sails of the Enghsh fleet, under 
Su- Phihp Sydney, appeared in the distant horizon, bring- 
ing succor to the besieged fortress ; and Napoleon per- 
ceiving the hopelessness of further exertions, gave the 
order to commence the retreat. The fire of the Turks 
was kept uji from the walls, until the retiring army passed 
forever out of the sight and beyond the vision of the 
sorely besieged, but invincible garrison. Napoleon had 
lost three thousand of his best troops beneath the walls 
of Acre. In his retreat he left all his artillery behind. 
His dream of oriental glory had passed away, and he 
awoke, at length, to a reality of horrors. 

We will not follow the baffled invader of the east 
through aU the incidents of his remaining stay in Egypt. 
From Acre he retreated through the desert to Cairo. 
From Cairo, he advanced to Aboukir Bay, to attack the 
large force of Turks which the sultan had sent to Egypt, 
to assist in crushing the power of the French. On the 
25th of July the great battle of Aboukir Bay was fought ; 
and after a long and desperate struggle, victory once 



HIS RETURN TO FRANCE. 229 

more was won back to the standard of l!^apoleon. Seven 
thousand slain Turks attested the fury of the conflict, 
and the magnitude of the triumph on that memorable 
field. 

Immediately after the occurrence of this battle, Napo- 
leon received information of the disasters which had be- 
fallen the dii'ectory in Italy and Switzerland ; and he 
immediately formed the resolution of secretly leaving his 
army behind him, and of returning to Europe. Accord- 
ingly, on the 22d of August he set sail from Alexandria, 
having entrusted the command of the troops in Egypt to 
Kleber. He was accompanied only by Murat, Lannes, 
Berthier, Marmont, Bourrienne, and several more of his 
personal staff. After a voyage of sev-eral months, during 
which the fi'igate which bore the then obscure party nar- 
rowly escaped capture fey the Enghsh cruisers in the 
Mediterranean, he reached Ajaccio. He sailed thence, 
after a sojourn of eight days in his native place, for the 
coast of France. He arrived attended only by his suite, 
in the Bay of Frejus, on the 8th of October ; and im- 
mediately commenced a rapid journey to Paris. 

Thus terminated, without any decisive results, the most 
romantic and remarkable expedition of modern times. 
It resembled, in the brilliant prospects which attended its 
commencement, and in the disasters and disappointment 
w^iich beclouded its termination, the more stupendous 
venture of the great Corsican against the empire of Rus- 
sia, which afterward occm-red during his careei\ 



CHAPTER X. 

THE EMPRESS TWAKIA LOUISA, AOT) THE COUET OF ST. CLOUD. 

The splendor of Napoleon's military reputation after 
his return from Egypt, rendered him the most considera- 
ble personage in France ; and while the directory was 
rapidly crumbling on its throne, Napoleon was as rapidly 
rising upon its ruins. On the 9th .of November, 1799, 
Napoleon dispersed the council of five hundred, while 
assembled in theii- hall, at the point of the bayonet. The 
directorial government was abolished, and the consulate 
was established, consisting of Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ro- 
ger-Ducos. The two latter were subsequently succeeded 
by Cambaceres and Le Brun ; but the strong arm and 
irresistible wiU of Napoleon already governed the desti- 
nies of France. Then came the consulate for hfe. At 
length, in 1804, Napoleon ascended the imperial throne. 
Meanwhile, his splendid triumphs on the field of battle, 
his profound wisdom in the comicil chamber, his energy 
and capacity as a ruler, had filled the world with his glo- 
ry. Mankind seemed after the lapse of many ages, to-be- 
hold the revival of the immortal epoch of the conquerors 
of old ; and looked with mingled admiration and terror 
at the rising star and amazing conquests of the modern 
Alexander. 

But one additional title to glory Napoleon still wanted, 
and that title he determined U possess. The humble 



NAPOLEON ENTERS VIENNA. 231 

Oorsican desired to unite his low-born race to one of the 
ancient reigning dynasties of Europe. This union would 
identify himself and his cause with the powerful legitimacy 
and consei'vatism of the past. The princess destined to 
realize for him this wish, was the grand-duchess Maria 
Louisa of Austria, the youthful heir of the most ancient, 
the most powerful, and the most illustrious race of kings, 
who had inherited the title of the Csesars. 

Let us narrate briefly some of the events which pre- 
ceded the union of this princess with Napoleon ; the state 
of the respective kingdoms which they represented ; and 
the strange events which blended their fmniHes and des- 
tinies into one. 

During the year 1809 occurred that celebrated cam- 
paign, which may be said to have laid the Germanic em- 
pire in the dust. On the 9th of April, Prince Charles, 
commanding the forces of Austria, took the field, and the 
Emperor Francis Joseph declared war against France. 
Napoleon immediately put himself at the head of his 
armies, then concentrated at Donauwerth. On the 23d 
of April he made himself master of Ratisbon. Imme- 
diately followed the decisive battle of Eckmiihl, and in 
one month fi'om that period, Napoleon entered Vienna in 
triumph. That capital had been defended by the Arch- 
Duke Maximilian, and during the siege which preceded 
its fall, the well known incident o<;curred which for the 
first tune connected the name of the future empress of 
France with that of the conqueror. The city was fiercely 
bombarded, and Napoleon was informed that the safety 
of the arch-duchess was endangered by his artillery, 
wliich was then throwing its iron hail-storm on the impe- 



232 NAPOLEON'S SERIES OF VICTORIES. 

rial palace to which she was confined by a serious indis- 
position. Napoleon instantly ordered the direction of 
his pieces to be changed. Vienna at length capitulated, 
and the victor took up his residence at the palace of 
Schonbrunn. 

During this short campaign of a few weeks, Napoleon 
had performed some of his most memorable achievements. 
The Austrian emperor had entered the field with an ar- 
my of nearly five hundred thousand men. Napoleon's 
forces under Massena and Davoust, were far inferior in 
number to their opponents. The battle of Landschut was 
the first of that remarkable series of victories which now 
crowned Napoleon's arms. In that battle the Austrians 
lost nine thousand men. At the victory of Eckmtlhl the 
Austrians lost twenty thousand prisoners. Next follow 
the memorable conflicts of Asperne and Essling, and so im- 
mense were the struggles, and the losses on each side during 
these conflicts, that each of the combatants claimed the vic- 
tory. Immediately afterward was fought the decisive bat- 
tle of Wagram. The struggle was indeed long and bloody. 
The Arch-Duke Charles, generahssimo of the Austrian 
forces, had extended his line over too vnde a space ; and 
Napoleon took advantage of this error to concentrate his 
strength upon the most exposed point of his enemy. The 
defeat of the Austrians was comj^lete. Twenty thousand 
prisoners, beside all the artillery and baggage of the arch- 
duke, fell iuto the hands of the conqueror. An armistice 
was the result of this decisive victory. Napoleon re- 
turned again to Schonbrunn where the terms of the 
treaty were matured and completed. 

It was by this treaty of Schonbrunn, that Napoleon 



MARIA LOUISA'S OPINION OF NAPOLEON. 233 

most effectually humbled and weakened the Austrian 
power. By it Francis II. was compelled to descend fi-om 
tlie high and ancient dignity of emperor of Germany, to 
that of emperor of Austria. He had been compelled by 
the treaty to make other heavy sacrifices. The immense 
territories known under the name of the Illgrean provin- 
ces were ceded to France. Napoleon thus added to his 
title of emperor of France, that of king of Italy. In Oc- 
tober he left Vienna and passing through Wiirtemberg, 
andved m haste at Paris. The thunder, the carnage, and 
the horrors of Wagram, had effectually prepared the way 
by which the Austrian princess was conducted to the 
nuptial couch of the conqueror, who had so nearly laid 
the dominion of her revered father forever prostrate in 
the dust. She may be easily justified for the ideas which 
she is at this period represented as entertaining of Napo- 
leon ; that he was a monster in human shape ; that he was 
half-man, half-devil ; that he was the evil genius of her 
famUy ; that he was the scourge and curse of Europe ; and 
that he was the embodiment of everythmg hateful and 
detestable. She changed her sentiments on this point, in 
a remarkable degree, upon a more tender and intimate 
acquaintance with their subject. She became convinced 
that he was a man without any infernal compound ; and 
one indeed whom an affectionate and sentimental wo- 
man might most devotedly love. It was during Napo- 
leon's temporary sojourn at the palace of Schonbrunn, 
that he first conceived and expressed the singular pur- 
pose of demanding the youthful arch-duchess as his 
Bpouse. 

Immediately after his return from Vienna, Napoleon 



234 NAPOLEON'S DIVORCE FROM JOSEPHINE. 

began seriously to contemplate the project of his divorce 
Impelled by the u-resistible power of his ambition, he de« 
termined that it should take place ; though by so doing 
he did violence to his affections, and to all the nobler sen- 
timents of his soul. A stupendous struggle took place 
within him, beneath the mighty violence of which, even 
his master mind for a time staggered. But at length the 
splendor of his contemplated alliance, whereby his upstart 
fortunes would be allied to the most ancient and august 
dynasty in Europe, was too strong an allurement to be 
resisted. He determined that, cost what it would, of 
burning tears, of sad regrets, of breaking hearts, and of 
runied and blasted hopes — Josephine, the beloved wife 
of his youth — his best, his most devoted friend, should de- 
scend from the high place to which he had elevated her, 
and that another should occujDy it m her stead. 

It was on the 15th of December, 1809, that this divorce 
took place. Several affecting scenes previously occurred 
between Napoleon and his wife, respecting their separa- 
tion. Josephine, fi'om the first, bore this reverse of for- 
tune with magnanimity. When Napoleon resolved to 
mention to her the necessity for a divorce that he might 
obtain an heir to his empire, he approached her ; he gazed 
affectionately upon her for a few moments ; and then with 
emotion pronounced these remarkable words : " Jose- 
phine, my excellent JosejDhuae, thou knowest if I have 
loved thee ! To thee, and to thee alone, do I owe the 
only moments of happiness I have enjoyed in this world. 
But my destiny overmasters my will. My dearest affec- 
tions must be silent before the interests of France." — 
' Say no more," she rephed, " I was prepared for this ; 



JOSEPHINE'S APPEARANCE. 235 

bat the blow is not the less terrible ! " She at length 
fainted, and was carried to her chamber. When the 
time arrived for publicly proclaiming the divorce, the 
grand saloon of the Tuileries was crowded. The whole 
Bonaparte family were present. All the courtiers were in 
full costume. N'apoleon wore a splendid suit of ceremo- 
ny, with magnificent drooping plumes. He stood motion- 
less as a statue, with his arms crossed upon his breast. 
At length the door opened by which Josephine was to 
enter. She appeared ; her countenance was pale, but 
calm and self-possessed. She leaned upon the arm of her 
daughter Hortense, whose tears fell fast, and who could 
scarcely control her feelings. Josephine approached the 
center of the apartment, where an arm chair had been 
placed for her, before which was a small table, with writ- 
ing apparatus of gold. She wore a dress of white muslin, 
without a single ornament. She moved with her usual 
grace to the seat prepared for her, and there listened to 
the reading of the act of separation. Her children, Eu- 
gene and Hortense, stood behind her chaii', and in vain 
attempted to suppress their sobs and tears. Josephme 
heard with calmness the words which there placed an 
eternal barrier between herself and the tenderly cherished 
object of her pride and her affections. The reading over, 
she arose ; pressed for a moment her handkerchief to her 
swimming eyes ; pronounced with a clear voice the oath 
of acceptance ; and taking the pen from the hand of 
Count St. Jean d'Angely, signed her name in full and 
bold characters to the instrument before her. Ihen, 
leaning on the arms of Eugene and Hortense, she retired 
from the saloon as she had entered it. 



236 MIDNIGHT SCENE IN THE PALACE. 

But the interest of this sad day had not yet terminated 
Josephine, remained shut up in her own apartment until 
her usual hour of retiring to rest. Napoleon then re- 
paired to a separate chamber from the one which he had 
long shared with his now dethroned empress. He came 
not that night to his usual resting-place. He sought not 
then the communion of that tender and faithful breast in 
which for many long and troubled years he had deposited 
his cares as into a holy sanctuary, and had ever found 
sympathy and affection. The contrast was too painful to 
Josephine's feelings, and her agony at length became in- 
supportable. She arose from her couch. Napoleon had 
just placed himself ia bed, when suddenly and silently 
the door of his apartment opened. Josephine appeared, 
her dress and hair in disorder, and her face swollen with 
weepnig. She advanced slowly toward the bed, and with 
clasped hands gazed upon the covered form of him, who 
had so long been the god of her idolatry. Forgetting 
everything else, in the fullness of her grief, she threw her- 
self upon the bed, clasped the neck of her husband, and 
gave full vent to her grief. Napoleon wept. He dis- 
missed the attendant who waited at the door of the apart- 
ment ; and after an iaterview of an hour, the emperor 
parted forever from the woman who had been the benig- 
nant angel of his checkered and turbulent destiny. The 
next morning she bade adieu to the TuUeries, which she 
never entered again. Such was the woman, and such her 
spuit, whose successor Maria Louisa was to become, upon 
the uirone of France. 

It was indeed a singular fate which was about to unite 
the destinies of these two beings. Napoleon had fought 



^A1ULE0N'S SECOND MARRIAGE. 237 

nmtd game a twenty pitched battles over the armies of 
Austria. He had spread terror during ten years through- 
out her dominions. He had twice entered her trembling 
capital as a conqueror. He had frequently brought his 
future father-in-law to the brink of destruction. And 
3^et, he was now to be united in the tenderest and most 
endearmg ties with the princess whose family and whose 
dominion he had so nearly ruined. There were men 
then living also, who remembered well the day when this 
haughty and all-conquering aspirant to the fairest and 
noblest hand in Christendom, had left his watch, his only 
possession, as security for a small sum of borrowed money. 
There were women then living who had disclaimed hitn as a 
suitor, and even as an associate, when he first appeared in 
Paris, a poor, meager, rmknown, and undistinguished 
youth. Now, indeed, he might command the approving 
smiles, and the yielding heart of the most beautiful and 
most high-born of the daughters of the earth. Human 
destiny is indeed a wonderful enigma ! Truth is strange ; 
often far stranger than the most erratic flights of the dis- 
tempered imagination. 

The marriage having been duly determined upon by 
the plenipotentiaries of both monarchs, its announcement 
was received both at Paris and Vienna with every de- 
monstration of delight. Splendid fetes were given in 
honor of the imperial nuptials. Berthier, Prince de Neuf- 
chatel, was sent to Vienna to conduct the empress to 
Paris. She was married by jDroxy to her uncle Prince 
Charles, with all the forms and ceremonies which are so 
scrupulously observed by the court of Vienna, on the 



238 MARIA LOUISA'S ADIEU TO VIENNA. 

1st of April, 1810; and the clay of her departure from the 
palace, and from the city of her forefathers, was fixed. 

It is recorded that the yoimg arch-duchess often shed 
tears of regret at her contemplated se]3aration from, her 
family, and her connection with a man who had been so 
long the object of her terror and her aversion. Her 
family have always been remarkable for the unusual affec- 
tion and attachment which has ever existed between its 
members. She shed bitter tears at the prospects of the 
future, which, while they seemed fraught with splendor 
and distinction, might nevertheless be pregnant with dan- 
ger, with mortification, and with indignity to herself and 
her family. 

When the day of departure arrived, Maria Louisa bade 
adieu to all the members of her family. Etiquette re- 
quired that she should then retire to her apartment, to 
wait tiU Berthier came to conduct her to her carriage. 
When the prince entered her apartment he was surprised 
to find her bathed in tears. She apologized gracefully 
for her weakness ; " but," said she, " see how I am sur- 
rounded here by so many objects which are dear to me, 
and which I must leave forever. These drawings were 
made by my sister ; that tapestry was wrought by my 
mother ; those paintings are by my uncle Charles." In 
fact, almost every ornament of her apartment was the 
cherished work of some beloved hand. She expressed 
her regret also at losing her singing birds, her parrot ; 
and above all, a separation which more than all the rest 
seemed to wring her heart with sorrow, was the loss of 
Fortune^ her lapdog. To lose aU these, was a misfor- 
tune which at least excused the tears shed by the tender 



NOVEL SCHEME OF BERTHIER. 239 

and affectionate princess. So mutual was the attachment 
between her and her little favorite, that they parted with 
an affecting adieu of regret and complaint. 

A thought at this moment entered the mind of Ber^ 
thier, which certainly did him great credit. " I have 
merely come," said he, " to acquaint your majesty, that 
you need not yet depart for two hours. I will therefore 
withdraw during that time." He immediately went to 
the emperor and acquainted him with his plan. Francis 
II. the most affectionate of fathers, gladly assented to his 
proposition. The requisite orders were given, and in two 
hours aU was ready for their departure and the execution 
of his mysterious scheme. 

The young empress rapidly passed through the do- 
minions of her father, and reached the confines of the 
French territories. She was surrounded everywhere with 
festivities and rejoicings ; and her affection for her parrot 
and her dog, had almost faded from her memory. It 
was at Compiegne that she first beheld her future hus- 
band. The incidents connected with their first interview 
are weU known ; how Napoleon had sent an escort to 
meet the cortege of his young empress, whUe he deter- 
mined to await her arrival ; how his impetuosity over- 
came his prudence and his decorum ; how he rode forth at 
a furious rate to meet her carriage ; how he himself opened 
the door and rushed into her arms ; how she was at first 
overcome with sudden terror, but being reassured by his 
tender embraces was about to kneel, when Napoleon pre- 
vented her, and overwhelmed her again with his impetu- 
ous caresses. 

The imperial couple spent the first night of their union 



MO ITS FtJLFILLMENT. . 

at Compeigne. The next day they proceeded directly to St. 
Cloud, and thence to Paris. The empress at this period 
was eighteen years of age. Her personal appearance was 
taterestiiig. Her hair was of a light color, her eyes were 
blue and expressive, her carriage was graceful, and her 
figure was elegant and beautifully proportioned. Her 
hands and feet were perfect, and might have served 
as models to the sculptor. She enjoyed good health; 
possessed a florid complexion; had an expressive and 
amiable countenance ; and might . indeed have been 
regarded as handsome, though by no means as intel- 
lectual. 

Upon her arrival at the palace of the Tuilleries, Napo- 
leon took the first opportunity to give her the agreeable 
surprise, which the stratagem of Berthier had prepared 
for her. He led her into one of the narrow corridors o± 
the palace, lighted only by a single lamp. " Where are 
we going ? " said she. " Come, Louisa, are you afraid to 
foUow me ? " rephed the emperor, who pressed his young 
bride to his bosom with affectionate tenderness. Sud- 
denly they stopped at a door, within which they heard the 
imj)atient barking of a dog which seemed dissatisfied with 
its prison. Napoleon opened the door, and desired Louisa 
to enter. Imagine her surprise and delight to find herself 
in a splendid apartment, greeted by her Uttie favorite 
from Vienna ; while in glancing around her, she saw the 
room furnished with the same chairs, carpets, paintings, 
bu'ds, drawings, and aU the other cherished mementoes 
of her former happy home, placed m the same order and 
arrangement which they had formerly occupied. Maria 
Louisa, overcome by her delightful emotions, threw her- 



BERTHIER'S REWARD. 241 

self into hei' husband's arms, who embraced her with de- 
Hght, very much m defiance of all the established rules 
of court etiquette. 

To complete the iiiterestmg scene, Berthier now en- 
tered, when Napoleon said : " Louisa, it is to him that 
you owe this unexpected pleasure. I desire you to em- 
brace him as a just reward." Berthier took the hand of 
the empress ; but the emperor added : " No, no, you must 
kiss my old and faithful friend." His agreeable order was 
obeyed ; and the marshal sahited with mingled confusion 
and pleasure the blooming and blushing bride of his 
master. 

Thus, at length, after so many storms and struggles, 
after the convjilsions which had shaken a continent, and 
the mighty upheavings which had overturned thrones and 
dynasties, the loud clarion of battle had ceased to resound ; 
the drum no longer beat to arms ; and the imperial eagle 
having soared in the highest heaven of glory, had folded its 
wings and paused on its ambitious way. Universal peace 
prevailed. The harsh words of command had given place 
to the gentle and endearmg accents of love. Mars was 
neglected and Hymen honored. The gates of the temple 
of Janus were closed; while Concord and Cupid with 
their benignant scepters reigned over the rejoicing nations. 

"Grim visaged war had smoothed his wrinkled front, 
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds 
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, 
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber 
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute! " 

The Court of St. Cloud, to the magnificent portals of 

which tte youthful empress was conducted by her ill us 
K 16 



242 THE SPLENDOR OF NAPOLEON'S COURT. 

trious spouse, and the empire wMch she was invited to 
share with him, exceeded in splendor, ia renown, and in. 
every element of human grandeur, aU other courts which 
ever existed. The brilliancy of the alliance which now 
took place, excited the admiration of all the world. Man- 
kind had never before witnessed a union by which soi many 
glories, such imposing historical associations, such re- 
nown and such splendor had been combmed together. 
The union of Arragon and Castile by the marriage oi 
Ferdinand and Isabella, had led to the establishment of 
the Spanish monarchy, which became the greatest in 
chivalrous power and heroism in its day, which van- 
quished the Moorish empire in one contment, and the Pe- 
ruvian in another. The union of Hungary and Bohemia 
with the hereditary states of Austria, by the marriage of 
Maria Theresa with Francis I. had produced a great 
monarchy. The consohdation of Scotland and England 
under James I. had greatly increased the magnitude and 
promoted the aggrandizement of the British realms. But 
these were insignificant combinations compared with the 
one which now had taken place. There on the one hand 
was the vast and ancient inheritance of the house of 
Hapsburg, of Charles V. and of Maria Theresa, combined 
with that of Charlemagne, of the long line of the Capets, 
and of the Bourbons. The former sovereignty had been 
the result of the steady and careful accumulation of ages, 
of long struggles and of numerous vicissitudes. The lat- 
ter empire had been won by an untitled adventurer from 
a remote island of the sea ; by the victorious hero of an 
hundred battles ; by a man whose ambition had convulsed 
Europe, and whose god-Uke genius was the wonder and 



THE ELEMENTS OF ITb SPLENDOR. 243 

the terror of his race. Napoleon had mounted a throne 
upon which fifty-five anointed sovereigns had sat in suc- 
cession, from the day that Childeric I, ascended it in 
the fifth century, down till that period. He was their 
successor, their heir, their representative. 

The court over which Maria Louisa was invited now to 
preside, was hrilliant in proportion to the magnitude of 
the empire over which it ruled. Paris was then the me- 
tropolis of the civihzed world. Thither tended as to a 
mighty and all-devoui'ing vortex, the luxurious ex]3endi- 
tures of Europe's prmces and nobility. Thither clus- 
tered, as around the great center of social refinement and 
splendor, the most beautiful, the most accomplished, the 
most fascinating women, as well as the bravest, the no- 
blest, and the most illustrious men. 

There, as the acknowledged head and supreme sover- 
eign was the modern Achilles ; a hero as brave, as gifted, 
and as ambitious as C^sar or Alexander, and more pow- 
erful and fortunate than either. His first wife Josephine, 
like the evening star, had retired in sweetness and in 
beauty from the scenes of her former grandeur which she 
had so well adorned and dignified, to the shades of private 
life at Malmaison ; where she remained unseen by a world 
who remembered her only to admire her virtues and to 
regret her absence ; but where she was stiU adored by 
the few who were allowed to behold her subdued splen- 
dor. That court was now graced vnth the presence of 
Pauline Bonajoarte, the most lovely and the most seductive 
of women ; the modern Venus, as beautiful and as frail as 
the goddess whom she so aptly represented. There was 
Queen Hortense, the wife of Louis Bonaparte, who had 



244 ITS HEROES AND BEAUTIES. 

inherited her mother's amiability and intelligence. There 
was Caroline Bonaparte, the queen of Naples, and the 
princess Eliza ; both of them worthy to be the sisters of an 
emperor; whose accomplishments were the praise, but 
whose intrigues were the scandal of all Europe. There 
was Talleyrand, the most sagacious and far-seeing of states- 
men ; Fouche, the most cunning and intriguing of min- 
isters ; and Cambaceres, the most dignified of courtiers. 
There were clusters of renowned warriors who had van- 
quished the embattling foes of France on many a blood- 
stained field ; the heroic Ney, the impetuous Lannes, the 
dauntless Massena, the resolute Macdonald, and the pru- 
dent Soult. There the ambassadors of mighty kings and 
the representatives of distant and renowned repubhcs 
were assembled ; and added a brighter luster to scenes 
already sufiiciently resplendent. There, too, was the 
charm produced by the presence of dramatic genius — of 
Mile. Mars, the most brilliant of actresses, of Talma, 
the most consummate of tragedians. The ancient nobili- 
ty of France were represented by the Princess DeRohan, 
and by others of its most illustrious scions. Peerless 
beauty also illumined the gilded halls of St. Cloud by its 
fascinating presence ; for there was Madam Tallien, who 
still retained the undiminished splendor of her majestic 
beauty ; whose heroic love had inspired her husband in 
other days to strike the first death-blow to the terrible 
power of Robespierre. There too were Mesdames Janot, 
Grandt and Recamier, her equals in personal charms, 
though not in genius and in fame. Around the court 
and within the capital of the great Napoleon, were as- 
sembled the most eminent men of that day, in every art 



ITS ARTISTS AND SAYAN'S. 245 

and science known to human genins ; Isabey the painter, 
Paer the composer, ChampolHon the antiquary, Corvisart 
the physician, the doctors of the Sorbonne, the savans 
of the institute, peers of ancient houses, and statesmen 
and soldiers of immortal name. All these governed from 
that spot, under the guidance of their great chief, the 
interests of many chmes. Around the court of St. Cloud, 
the anxious curiosity and interest of mankind from Mos- 
cow to Madrid, and from the bleak hills of Scotland to 
the balmy shores oftheBosphorus were there concentrated, 
as toward the great center of aiFairs ; as the spot whence 
all absolute decrees proceeded, which controlled alike the 
world of fashion, the republic of letters, the fortunes of 
war, and the destinies of nations. 

Such was the court over which the young and timid 
empress was suddenly called to preside. Shortly after 
the marriage, Maria Louisa accompanied Napoleon into 
Belgium. This journey was taken by him in consequence 
of various disputes which had taken place between the 
emperor and his brother Louis, the king of that country, 
which had terminated in a complete rupture. At Ant- 
werp, and indeed throughout the whole tour, the empress 
received the homage of the Dutch, and the imperial pair 
were everywhere greeted with public rejoicings, fetes, 
and manifestations of popular joy. Louis had been forced 
to abdicate ; and Belgium and Holland had, by an impe- 
rial decree, been annexed to the French empire. This 
journey was intended to aiford an opportunity to inspect 
the actual wants of the countries, whose government he 
was thus constrained personally to assume. He returned 



246 FESTIVITIES IN" PARIS. 

by way of Ostend, Lille, and Normandy, to St. Cloud, 
where he arrived with his empress iu June, 1810. 

The festivities which took place at_, Paris in honor of 
the imperial ruptials had not ceased before a most lament- 
able event tc-ok place, whose sad details wiU long be re- 
membered. This was the dreadful accident which occured 
at Prmce Schwartzenberg's ball, in July of the same year. 
The prince occupied the Hotel Montesson, but its capa- 
cious proportions were not sufficient to accommodate the 
large and brilliant company which honored the ball with 
their presence. A temporary saloon had been constructed 
in the garden, which resembled a fairy palace, filled with 
flowers, perfumes, deHcio us music, and thedazzlmg splen- 
dor of diamonds and jewels. The walls were covered 
with gold and silver brocade, while hundreds of crystal 
chaudeUers shed theii" glittering luster over the gorgeous 
scene. 

Maria Louisa and ISTapoleon were present. The dan- 
cing had just commenced when the fire was discovered. 
The empress was then engaged in conversation with some 
ladies near the throne which adorned one end of the apart- 
ment. "With great self-possession and courage she imme- 
diately ascended the steps of the throne, seated herself 
there, and waited till N"apoleon came to conduct her firom 
the scene of peril and disaster. This he immediately did ; 
he placed her in her carriage and accompanied her as far 
as the Place Louis XY. But there were other and much 
more deplorable scenes connected with this catastrophe. 
The beautiful and accomplished Princess Schwartzenberg 
fell a victim to the flames. In escaping from the ball 
room, a ponderous luster fell upon her head and fractured 



PRINCE SCHWARTZENBERG'S BALL. 247 

her skull. She fell into an opening caused by the burn- 
ing of the floor ; and being unable to rise or to escape, 
was soon overpowered by the flames. Her body was 
found burnt to a cinder, except her bosom, and a part of 
one arm. She was recognized by the brilliant jewels 
"which she wore around her neck, which were still attached 
to her mutilated remains. A Swedish officer also dis- 
covered among the ruins, the almost lifeless remains of 
another female. Her countenance was so blackened, as 
to be utterly undistinguishable. The silver mounting of 
her diamond tiara had melted, and penetrated into the 
head. A faint groan issued from what seemed to be but 
a mass of cinders — which was the only proof that life was 
not yet extinct. It proved to be the Princess de la 
Leyen, who expired the follomng day in the most inde- 
scribable agony. 

Such was the sad and horrid omen which immediately 
followed the splendid nuptials of the ambitiou.s Corsican ; 
and which fiUed the minds of thousands with superstitious 
terror. Every one was reminded of the similar catastro- 
phe which, had occurred at the marriage of Louis XVI. 
and Maria Antoinette ; and which might forbode, and 
actually did precede the extermination of that new dy- 
nasty, whose inauguration had been, so triumphant and 
so propitious. 

The birth of the king of Rome, Napoleon II., occurred 
on the 20th of March, 1811. This event may be termed 
the last benignant smile of fortune which beamed upon 
the turbulent career of Napoleon. Maria Louisa suffered 
a long and a difficult accouchement. For some time her 
danger was imminent. Baron Dubois ran to acquaint 



£48 BIRTH OF THE KING OF ROME. 

Napoleon of her peril. He found him taking a hath tc 
cool the feverish excitement under which he was labor- 
ing. On hearing of the danger of the empress, he threw 
on a rohe-de-cJiambre and hastened to her chamber. " Save 
the mother," said he to Corvisart, the attendant physician, 
" treat her as if she were a girl of the Fauxbourg St. 
Antoine." As soon as the child was born, the emperor 
entered the apartment, and first embraced the mother 
without bestowing a look uj)on the son. The latter, in- 
deed, seemed to be beyond the reach of human sympathy. 
Nearly ten minutes elapsed before he exhibited any signs 
of life. Every expedient was resorted to, to produce 
animation ; he was rubbed with the hand ; drops of bran- 
dy were blown into his mouth ; warm napkins were 
wrapped around him. All seemed unavaiKng. Mean- 
while the loud thunder of the artillery which announced 
to the expectant Parisians, the happy event of the bii'th 
of a son to their renowned emperor, revei'berated over 
Paris, and shook the ponderous walls of the palace. At . 
length the royal mfant uttered a feeble cry. It is confi- 
dantly asserted that the concussion produced by the dis- 
charge of the cannon alone resuscitated the expiring in- 
fant, gave to Napoleon an heir, and to France the cause 
of boimdless joy and congratulation. 

Strange to say, some doubt has been expressed as to 
whether the king of Rome was really Napoleon's son. All 
such doubt is absurd. The actual eye-witnesses of the 
event of his birth were twenty-two in number. Nor was 
there anything singular in the fact, that Maria Louisa, 
at nineteen years of age, healthy, blooming, and vigorous, 



ENTHUSIASM OF THE PARISIANS. 249 

eliould Ibecome the mother of a son to IsTaj^oleoii, after 
eleven months of marriage. 

The king of Rome was baptized on the day of his 
birth, in the chapel of the Tuileries. The whole imperial 
family were in attendance, and Napoleon witnessed the 
ceremony with the deepest emotion. The emperor him- 
self bore his son to the baptismal font, and knelt upon a 
stool covered with white velvet during the progress of 
the ceremony. When the first gun announced that Maria 
Louisa had become a mother, all Paris was convulsed 
with joy. All business was suspended ; the people flocked 
to the Tuileries ; an immense crowd surrounded the pal- 
ace ; hats were thrown up into the air ; people kissed 
each other in their frenzied enthusiasm ; and tears of joy 
were seen to flow. At eleven o'clock, Madame Blanchard 
rose in a balloon from the square of the military school, 
and scattered bulletins over Paris announcing the particu- 
lars of the joyful event. A chamberlain was j)laced at 
the door of the jDalace who communicated from time to 
time the condition of the empress and her son, to the im- 
mense crowds who still besieged its portals. In contem- 
pla,ting the birth of the king of Rome, even at this dis- 
tant day, when all the splendid hopes and august asso- 
ciations connected with it have passed away forever, we 
cannot fail to be struck with the singularity of destiny. 
What stupendous hopes surrounded that infant head ! 
And yet, how sadly were they all blasted by the disas- 
trous progress of events; how dark and cheerless was the 
early setting of that youthful sun, whose rising splendor 
was so gorgeous and magnificent ! 

IS'apoleon, who had so long desired a son, now that his 
K* 



250 NAPOLEON'S PRANKS. 

wish was gratified, exhibited as that son grew older the 
strongest paternal feeling. He frequently took the king 
of Rome into his arms and tossed him up into the air. 
The child would then laugh till the tears stood in his 
eyes. Sometimes the emperor took him before a looking 
glass, and put his face into all sorts of grimaces, till the 
child would cry out with terror. At other times at 
table, the stern conqueror would besmear the boy's face 
with gravy, which always highly amused the young inno 
cent. These displays of youthful happuiess and of child 
ish affection, remind us strongly of those memorable lines 
of the poet Gray, whose truthfulness to nature has made 
them household words to aU generations : 

Alas ! regardless of their doom, 

The little victims play ! 
No sense have they of ills to come, 

No care beyond to-day. 
Yet see how all around them wait, 
The ministers of human fate, 
And black misfortune's baleful train ; 
Ah ! show them where in ambush stand 
To seize their prey, the murderous band ; 

Ah tell them they are men 1 

As the king of Rome grew in years, his character be- 
came more interesting and remarkable. His inteUigence 
and spirit were unusual, and indicated a nature of more 
than ordinary talent and power. He possessed, however, 
a very violent temper. His governess, Madame de 
Montesquieu, once corrected him for the excessive fury 
of his passion. On another similar occasion, she ordered 
all the shutters of the windows to be closed, though it 
was broad day light. The cl ild, astonished to find the 



MADAM DE MONTESQUIOU. 251 

iiglit of day excluded, and the candles lighted, inquired 
the reason of the novel proceedure. " In order that no 
one may hear you, sire," she replied. "The French 
would never have you for their king, if they knew you 
were so violent." " Have I cried very loud ? " said he, 
" and did they hear me ? " "I fear they have," was the 
answer. He then fell to weeping, and throwing his arms 
around his governess' neck, said — " I will never do so 
again. Mamma Quiou ; pray forgive me ! " 

On another occasion, later in his history, the emperor 
took his son to a review in the Champ de Mars. " Was 
he frightened at the shouts of the veteran Guards ? " 
inquired the empress. " Frightened ? no, surely," repKed 
Napoleon; "he knew that he was among his father's 
friends." After the review Napoleon conversed for some 
time with the architect, Fontaiue, respecting the palace to 
be built for the king of Rome on the elevated ground 
facing the mihtary school. The word Home brought to 
the mind of the emperor the fact that he had never visit- 
ed the eternal city, and was a personal stranger to its 
memorable scenes. " But," said he " I shall go there 
some day, for it is the city of my little king." Alas ! the 
Httle king, for whom so rich an inheritance had been pre- 
pared, never entered upon its possession. His was a much 
smaller domaiu at the age of twenty-one — that of the 
grave. 

We wUl not dwell ujjon the succeeding events of Na- 
poleon's career, during which time Maria Louisa remained 
his nominal wife. The short reign of the great hero iu 
his diminutive empire at Elba ; his return to France in 
1815, the bold and desperate dariag of which, took the 



252 MEAI^XESS OF MARIA LOUISA'S NATURE. 

w^hole world by surprise ; his wonderful struggles during 
the hundred days, by wliich the mastery of his genius 
over the combined diplomatists and soldiers of a conti- 
nent, was most signally apparent ; and the accidental 
though rumous reverse to his aspiring fortunes at Water- 
loo ; these events are too familiar to all men, to require a 
repetition here. But it will be sufficient to remark, that 
had Maria Louisa possessed the least spark of romance 
in her soul, or the least superiority of intellect, or the 
least affection for her immortal spouse, her efforts to 
spend with him the decline of life, and her endeavors to 
alleviate his sufferings, would have added to the history 
of both a charm and an attraction, far superior to any 
which is now associated with their names ! 

As soon as the influence of Napoleon's mind was re- 
moved from her's, and his elevated sentiments no longer 
inspired her conduct, Maria Louisa displayed the true 
meanness of her nature ; and that was done apparently in 
utter and innocent unconsciousness of her degradation and 
her debasement in the estimation of the world. By the 
treaty of Vienna in 1815, she became the sovereign of 
Parma and Modena. Through the intrigues of her own 
family, an Austrian colonel was placed in connection with 
her, as prime mmister, with the covert design of her 
seduction and disgrace as the wife of IS^apoleon. Count 
Niejjbei'g soon accompHshed this disgraceful purpose, and 
became her acknowledged paramour. She had two chil- 
dren by him ; and while the great Napoleon still lived 
and languished on the blea^k height of Helena, his recre- 
ant wife reveled with the unprincipled seducer in shame- 
Jess excesses, amid the sumptuous palaces and retreats of 



DEATH OF THE KING OF E,OME. 253 

Parma. After a few years N^iepberg died, and Maria 
Loiusa became almost frantic at his loss. Yet after a 
short time her mind, incapable of stability and of exalted 
sentiment of any Idnd, solaced itself ^7ith other and suc- 
cessive attachments. Her son, the Duke of Reichstadt, 
died in Vienna, the victim of the state craft of his unnat- 
ural grandfather ; who surro'unded him with various 
temptations to debauchery, which, through the adroitness 
of Prince Metternich, were so skillfully a2:)pHed, that he 
soon became their imconscious victim, and died a prema- 
ture death. His mother, disgraced and despised by all 
the world, soon followed him to the tomb, having fur- 
nished in her life a memorable evidence of the fact, that 
ignoble minds, however much tbey may have been eleva- 
ted for a time above their kindred degradation, by con- 
nection with more exalted natures, when that better in- 
fluence is removed will relapse again to that condition, 
which possesses greater consonance with their own inborn 
and ineradicable baseness. And among the existing in- 
stances in which greatness has been thrust upon its pos- 
sessors, and persons of the most ordmary qualities have 
become the object of the curiosity, wonder and congratu- 
lation of the civilized world, the case of Maria Louisa is 
probably the most remarkable ; for without the aid of 
her exalted birth, and her still more exalted alliance m 
marriage, she would inevitably have passed down to the 
■ shades of the common obUvion, without having scarcely 
excited a I'emark, or generated an emotion ! 



CHAPTER XI. 

EXPEDITION or J^APOLEON IN RUSsfA. 

NAPOLEoisr, having determined upon the mvasion of 
Russia, immediately prepared to achieve that gigantic 
enterprise. Well might even his stupendous genius hesi- 
tate and reconsider its purpose, when contemplating an 
expedition more astounding and audacious than any ever 
before conceived by the human mind. Russia was at that 
time the most formidable opponent whom he could con- 
front in Europe. The three hundred Spartans stemming 
the mighty tide of Persian invasion at the strait of 
Thermopylae ; or Csesar crossing the Rubicon with hia 
legions, thus bidding defiance to the hostile power of 
Rome ; or Cortez with five hundred Spaniards, invading 
the vast empne of Mexico ; these and other renowned 
instances of desperate and intrepid adventure, were trifles 
in comparison with the vastness, grandeur, and heroism of 
Napoleon's invasion of Russia ; a cotmtry containing at 
that time fifty millions of inhabitants, an army of five hun- 
di'ed thousand men, with the howling tempests, the furi- 
ous snow storms, and the intense cold of a Russian win- 
ter, superadded to the infernal horrors of the scene. 

Yet aU these obstacles did not for a moment daunt the 
fearless " child of destiny." The solemn and mysterious 
voice of fate, stiU seemed to say to him in audible tones : 
"Onward! to the city of the czars! All Eui'ope will 



MAGNITUDE OF THE ENTER-PRISE. 255 

then be beneath your feet," and that voice he had sworn 
to obey, whether it whispered to liim beneath the fair 
skies of Italy, amid the sandy waste of Egypt, on the 
fruitful plains of Sj)ain, or amid the cheerless snows of 
Russia. 

Napoleon set off on this memorable expedition, from 
Paris, in the month of May, 1812, accompanied by Maria 
Louisa ; who had expressed a desire to see her father. 
Austria was at that time in alliance with France. Toward 
the Vistula, as to a common center, were then moving by 
the emperor's command, countless multitudes of troops, 
cavalry, artillery, carriages, provisions and baggage of 
every description ; and the grand army composed of 
nearly six hundred thousand troops, well equipped, and 
experienced in war, commanded by Napoleon himself, 
assisted by his most celebrated marshals, was an arma- 
ment unequaled for effectiveness in the whole history of 
warfare. The millions of imbecile Persians who once 
deluged Greece, under the command of Xerxes ; the 
hostile hosts which combatted at Cannae and Pharsalia ; 
the Ottoman force which beseiged Vienna, and which 
was scattered to the winds by John Sobieski ; all these 
were inferior to the stupendous and well appointed 
armament which now marshaled under the orders of the 
modern AchiUes, and boldly menaced the capital and the 
throne of the czars. Yet that immense host, and its re- 
nowned commander, were marching under the fatal spell 
of an evil genius ; and were allured by splendid chimeras, 
onward to the vortex of inevitable ruin. 

During the short residence of Napoleon at Dresden, a 
scene of magnificence and splendor was presented, to 



256 SPLENDID SCENES AT DRESDEN. 

which no parallel can be found in modern history. The 
once humble Corsican was surrounded with a degree' of 
glory and grandeur which had fallen to the lot of no hu- 
man being before or since, whether he was born the heir 
of kings, or of beggars. Napoleon occupied the palace 
of the ancient monarchs of Saxony, surrounded by his 
marshals, generals, and all the brilliant male and female 
members of his court. Day after day, and night after 
night, the most splendid fetes were given him, while 
adulation and homage more profound than had ever be- 
fore been offered to a sovereign were lavished upon him. 
An innumerable crowd of courtiers, generals, ministers, 
princes, dukes, and even kings, swarmed assiduously 
around him, upon whom he, in return, not only bestowed 
benignant smiles, but lavished rich gifts, worthy of the 
munificence of so great a conqueror. It is related that 
on several occasions as many as four sovereigns of great 
states, were waiting patiently at the same time in his 
ante-chamber. Many queens were proud of the dignity 
of being maids of honor to Maria Louisa. The streets 
were thronged with splendid equipages, passing to and 
fro, from audiences asked and happily obtained from this 
king of kings ; whUe the rapid departure and arrival of 
messengers and couriers to every part of Europe, indica- 
ted the vast supervision exercised by him over the greater 
portion of the European kingdoms. Then indeed had 
the power of this wondrous adventurer reached a pinna- 
cle, uneqiialed by that of any other mortal ; for his impe- 
rious will alone seemed to determine the conduct and the 
fate of five hundred milUons of the human race, who re- 
ceived with mingled curiosity and apprehension whatever 



A PASSAGE OF THE NIEMEN. 257 

he might decree respecting their interests and their 
fate. 

On the 24th of June, 1812, the grand army passed the 
Niemen "by three bridges, which had been erected by the 
orders of Napoleon ; and thus they set their foot for the 
first time upon the forbidden territory of their great foe. 
Two entire days were occujjied with the passage of the 
troops. Two himdred and fifty thousand men at that 
single point marched under the order of Napoleon ; and 
never before had a more magnificent display of all the 
glorious yet delusive pomp and circumstance of war been 
made. The French army passed this fatal boundary fine 
in high, exulting hope, anticipating a brilliant and triumph- 
ant campaign, and the speedy subjugation of the power 
of Russia. In six months alas i how sad and frightful a 
wreck of this once splendid armament, tottered back 
again to the banks of this same river, a few exhausted 
and stragghng thousands whom the sword of the aveng- 
ing foe, and the more relentless and deadly embrace of 
a Russian winter, had spared to tell the tale of the unex- 
pected ruin of this great and brave armament. 

It is said that the emperor Alexander of Russia was at 
a ball in the neighborhood of Wilna, when he first heard 
that the French army had at length crossed the Niemen, 
and invaded his territory. He immediately issued a proc- 
lamation, calling upon his faithful subjects to defend their 
comitry and their religion ; and concluded it by declarmg 
that he himself would not sheathe his sword as long as an 
enemy remained within the Russian dominions. The 
policy which he had determined to adopt on this memora- 
ble occasion, was one which proves the sagacity and pr'^- 

17 



258 THE POLICY OF ALEXANDER L 

found wisdom of Alexander, to which his own triumph 
and the ultimate defeat of his foe are alone attributable. 

Had Alexander determined to resist the invader upon 
the field, he would have been vanquished ; for Napoleon's 
ability as a commander was unequaled ; his military force 
was in perfect discipline and effectiveness ; and defeat af- 
ter defeat would have been the inevitable result of a rash 
purpose to confront dii-ectly so great a general with 
so powerful an army, Alexander wisely resolved differ- 
ently. His pm-pose was to retire slowly with his armies 
as the invader advanced ; never to risk the hazard of a 
general engagement ; thus to preserve his troops unim- 
paii'ed, until the period for the summer campaign being 
ended, the terrible fary of a Russian winter would de- 
scend upon the presumptuous foe, and inflict that penalty 
which no mortal hand seemed to possess the ability to 
accomplish. 

The wisdom of this policy began immediately to dis- 
play itself. After passing the Niemen, the first city of 
importance on the route of the French army was Wilna 
Napoleon entered it on the 28th of June ; and at the 
same moment Barclay de ToUy, the Russian general, 
deserted it by the opposite gate. But ere Napoleon 
reached Wilna, he was compelled to pass through a terri- 
tory which his foe had already desolated; his horses 
perished by thousands fi-om the want of wholesome prov- 
ender; and twenty-five thousand sick and dying men 
already filled the hospitals of Wilna. It was not yet too 
late for him who was so boldly defiant of God and man 
to recede fi-om the brink of ruin ; but the lesson was in 
vain. 



NAPOLEON AT VITEPSK. 259 

After an imprudent delay of seventeen days at Wilna, 
Napoleon resumed his march toward Moscow. On the 
26th of July he reached Vitepsk, and endeavored to draw 
the Russian commander, Barclay, into a general engage- 
ment. On the evening of the 2'7th, the latter seemed to 
be preparing to meet the invader in the lai'ge plain which 
surrounds the city. During the night the watch fires in 
the Russian camp continued to burn with their wonted 
biilliancy. On the morning of the 28th, however, no 
trace of the Russian army could be found in the camp. 
To the astonishment of Napoleon, during the night, 
Barclay had ' effected a retreat in such excellent order, 
that not the slightest sound had been heard, even by the 
watchful Murat who had bivouacked with the advanced 
post of the French army. The great conqueror had 
again been eluded by his intended victim, who had thus 
adroitly slipped once more from his deadly grasp. 

While Napoleon halted at Vitepsk, he received infor- 
mation which by no means served to increase his enthu- 
siasm. He there learned that the Russian emperor had 
concluded a treaty of peace with the Turks ; which at 
once rendered a large army of some fifty thousand men, 
then employed on the Danube, available against his 
French foe. The latter also learned, that the czar had 
concluded a treaty with Sweden, by which means Berna- 
dotte, the sovereign of that country, was detached fi-om 
the interests of Napoleon, and rendered at least neutral 
in the present conflict. 

These were events of great importance to the French 
emperor ; and these, together with the immense losses 
of men and horses which he had already suffered, and 



260 HIS PAINFUL SUSPENSE. 

tlie advanced stage of tlie season, induced some of Na- 
poleon's more prudent and experienced marshals to ad- 
vise him to advance no further into the Russian territory ; 
but to defer his invasion until the succeeding spring, and 
to agree to a temporary armistice with Alexander. 

The great mind of Napoleon was, on this occasion, 
strangely and painfully agitated by conflicting purposes. 
Many grave considerations proclaimed the propriety and 
justice of these more prudent counsels. He had already 
lost many thousands of men, by the inevitable vicissitudes 
of the campaign. He had discovered in the Russian 
commanders and troops, a degree of desperate heroism 
which he had not anticipated. He already found it ex- 
ceedingly difficult to obtain the necessary provisions for 
his immense host. He was surrounded by a hostile and 
treacherous population ; and above all, the indescribable 
horrors of a Russian winter would soon overwhehn his 
exhausted troops. 

On the other hand, it was then but the middle of sum- 
mer. Ought the hero of Austerlitz to take up his winter 
quarters, in the month of July ? Besides, by pressing for- 
ward he would soon arrive beneath the waUs of Moscow ; 
and there, in a great and decisive battle, he would meet 
and vanquish his foe ; he would dethrone the hostile and 
humbled Czar ; he would enter Moscow in triumph ; he 
would then himself wield the scepter of the Russian em- 
pire, and would date his decrees to the four quarters of 
Europe from the Kremlin, the ancient palace and citadel 
of the Muscovite kings. Then, after a winter spent 
amid the frozen splendors of that northern capital, hrj 



HE RESOLVES TO ADVANCE. 261 

M^ould return with triumphant eagles to the sumptuous 
haUs of St. Cloud. 

It is said, that whUe Napoleon balanced in his mind 
the relative weight of the arguments on both sides of 
this great and momentous question, he was agitated as 
he never before had been. For several days his mind 
was in a terrific state of excitement. He slept neither 
by night nor by day. He could not rest for a moment. 
He could bear no clothmg upon his bed ; but during the 
hours of darkness, rolled and tossed in ceaseless agitation, 
weighing in his mind the doubtful probabilities of the 
great venture before him. At length, after several days 
of painful uncertainty, he arrived at the determination 
to advance. " We must be in Moscow in a month," said 
he, " or we will never be there. Peace awaits us only 
under its walls." The die was then cast ; and his desti- 
ny mvist needs be fulfilled. 

Giving the general order to advance, his troops arrived 
under their respective leaders, on the 16th of August, 
before the ancient walls of Smplensko. The two most 
able generals of the czar, Barclay de Tolly and Prince 
Bagrathion, had succeeded, after some severe skirmishes 
with the enemy, iu reaching this venerable fortress, and 
in throwing their troops within its walls. This city is 
situated on the banks of the Dnieper. Its fortifications 
were old, but were still able to resist the shock of artUlery. 
The Russian generals appear at first to have resolved to 
defend the city to the last extremity. An ancient wall 
thii-ty-five feet high, and eighteen feet thick, surrounded 
the whole city, -which presented an appearance in the 
highest degree picturesque. The most prominent buUd 



262 NAPOLEON AT SMOLENSKO. . ■ 

iiigs, among the many wMch. still remained as monu- 
ments of former Sarmatian splendor, were the citadel and 
the cathedral. The former was chiefly conspicuous for 
its size. The latter was a venerable and majestic edifice 
surmoimted by vast gilded domes, and adorned with lofty 
spires which ghttered afar iu the beams of the sun. 
From the spire of this cathedral the Russian generals be- 
held the hosts of the French hero as they successively 
arrived in immense masses, resplendent with steed and 
gold, and all the glittering trappings of war. As far as 
the eye could reach even with the aid of the telescope, the 
plain around Smolensko was covered with the martial 
hosts. From their high jjerch the Russian generals 
anxiously surveyed the scene ; and endeavored to com- 
pute the magnitude and power of the armament thus 
brought to bear against the beleaguered city. In silence 
and with the utmost precision, division after division 
wheeled into its appropriate place ; and two hundred 
thousand men were ready to advance to the attack of 
Smolensko, defended by a hundred thousand troops under 
the command of the Russian generals. 

The latter after a long and anxious survey of the 
French forces from the gilded spires of the cathedral, 
determmed not to stand the hazard of a siege, but to with- 
draw from Smolensko, and continue the retreat toward 
Moscow. The Russian troops accordingly defiled out of 
the city on the only side which was uninvested by the 
French, the one which led to Moscow. Bagrathion com- 
manded the retreat; Barclay de Tolly defended the 
walls. 

When Napoleon discovered the intention of the Rus- 



SIEGE OF SMOLENSKO. 263 

sians still to retreat, he was exasperated beyond measure ; 
and he determined at once to order a general assault. 
At two o'clock Marshal Ney attacked the great citadel. 
At the same time Davoust led his division against the 
ramparts. Poniatowsky brought sixty pieces of artillery 
to bear upon the bridges which connected both sides of 
the city over the Dneiper. The Russians were prepared 
to receive their assailants. In vain their batteiies thun- 
dered against the ancient walls eighteen feet in thickness. 
In vain did N"ey " the bravest of the brave," attack the 
citadel. The utmost exertions of the assailants availed 
nothing against the combined power of the fortress and 
the heroism of its defenders. At length night came, and 
Napoleon had not yet won victory to his standards. At 
seven in the evening he called off his troops from the 
hopeless attack. The Russians had successfully resisted 
the seventy thousand men whom Napoleon had led for- 
ward to the assault, during which he had lost fifteen 
thousand men. 

At nine o'clock in the evening, total sUence pervaded 
both camps ; but soon an appalling spectacle was present- 
ed to the view of the besiegers. Their red-hot balls had 
set fire to some wooden buUdings within the ramparts, 
and soon the lurid flames of a vast conflagration Ulumined 
the darkness of the whole horizon. The fire rapidly ex- 
tended toward a more central part of the city. High 
above the tumultuous ocean of flame and smoke, towered 
the ghttering domes of the cathedral, which they seemed 
in vain to assaU. As the conflagration increased, its ex- 
tending flames threw a clearer light over the assembled 
hosts who peopled the plains around, and who gazed in 



264 EETREAT OF THE RUSSIANS. 

silem awe and wonder upon a scene of such terror and 
siiblimity. But even this scene was but an humble pre- 
cursor of one of far greater magnitude and terror, which 
they were destined afterward to behold. 

The Russians retreated from Smolensk© during the 
whole of this memorable night, along the Moscow road. 
When morning dawned Davoust penetrated without any 
resistance within the walls,, and found a deserted city. 
The French troops however saw nothing but desolation 
and ruin on every side. The Russians had even destroy- 
ed the magazines, and left nothing to the possession of 
the invaders, but naked waUs and mouldering masses of 
I'uin. 

On the 22 d of August Napoleon left Smolensko, and 
advanced with his army on the road to Moscow. Al- 
ready that capital began to tremble with terror, as the 
dread conqueror approached nearer and nearer to her 
walls. No city, not even Rome with Hannibal thunder- 
ing at her gates, was ever agitated with so intense a 
dread, as was the ancient capital of Russia, when the 
news arrived that Napoleon with three hundred thou- 
sand troops had left Smolensko, and resumed his march 
for Moscow." At this crisis an aged and experienced gen- 
eral of Russian buth returned to that city from his con- 
quests on the confines of Turkey ; and to him, the univer- 
sal voice of the nation requested the emperor Alexander 
to confide the supreme command. This veteran was 
Kxitusoff, It was thought that his great talents, and his 
greater experience would afford a surer presage of victo- 
ry, under the unparalleled circumstance of peril and dis- 
aster which seemed to threaten the Russian throne and 



KUTUSOFF. 265 

empire at that moment. Since the days of the dauntless 
Suwarrow, no Russian general had wou so many great 
triumphs over the Tui'ks, or had given so many proofs 
of miconquerable heroism, as he had done during a long 
life of vicissitude and warlike adventure. 

Since the entrance of Napoleon into Russia the em- 
peror Alexander had ordered his generals not to venture 
upon a general engagement. But as the French ap- 
proached Moscow — ^now only fifty leagues distant, the 
increasing panic of its inhabitants imperatively demanded 
that the mvader should be met hi the field ; and the ap- 
pointment of Kutusoff to the supreme command was a 
proof that a great battle was at length determined upon 
by the Russian monarch. The memorable field of JBoro- 
dino lay in the pathway of Napoleon, ere he could place 
his eager hand on the crown of Russia, deposited in the 
treasure-chamber of the Kremlin ; and to that spot the 
forces of the czar were now concentrated, for the pur- 
pose of confi'onting the foe. 

On the 5th of September the head of Napoleon's col- 
umns came in sight of the humble village, whose name 
has since become immortal on one of the bloodiest pages 
of history. When evening came, the watchfires of both 
armies shed a gloonay light over an immense plain, form- 
ing two vast opposing semi-circles, which closed in the 
whole horizon on both sides. The hostile armies jDassed 
a sleepless night. They were on the eve of one of the 
great decisive battles of the world, which was to control 
the future fate of millions. Napoleon passed the night 
in his tent, alternately racked by anxious thoughts and 
fearful forebodings of the future ; and with emotions of 



266 BORODIKO. 

tenderness as he gazed with rapture on the portrait of 
his fair child, the king of Rome, which Isabey had com- 
pleted since his departure from Paris, and which had but 
a day or two before arrived in his camp. 

At length the long and tedious night passed away, and 

/the morning sun shone brightly on the hostile hosts. It 
was the sun of Borodino, forever memorable in the annals 
of blood and all the horrors of war ! Early in the morn- 
ing Napoleon rode along the far-reaching lines of his 
grim warriors, and encouraged them with words of confi- 
dence which he did not himself feel ; for already the un- 
expected disasters of the campaign had much duninished 
his first assurance in its ultimate issue. He reminded 
them that they were the unconquered heroes of Austerlitz 
and Friedland ; that this was the last great battle to be 
fought by them, before Moscow opened her gorgeous 

. gates to receive them ; and that a triumph now would 
insure the speedy end of their toils, and their quick re- 
turn to their native France. His words were received 
with shouts of rapture and exultation by the whole 
army. ' 

In the Russian camp a somewhat similar scene was 
enacted on the morning of this great day. A large con- 
course of Russian priests, headed by a prelate of high 
rank, who carried in his arms an image reputed to pos- 
sess miraculous power, passed along the ranks, which knelt 
as they approached. The prelate blessed the prostrate 
warriors as they lay ; and as the procession returned 
along the lines, the swelling sound of sacred melody 
chaunted by the strong voices of the priests, ascended 
upon the morning air, and floated sweetly over the plain 



COMMENCEMENT OF THE BATTLE. 261 

60 soon to be deeplj^ deluged with human blood. Kutu- 
BofF himself rode along the lines, and by his dauntless yet 
solemn air, infused new courage and devotion into the 
hearts of his warriors. The impressive sounds of prayer 
and praise as uttered by the Russian priests and soldiers, 
were even wafted by the breeze to the French camp, and 
did not fail to call forth the ridicule and satire of the 
gay and irreverent children of the Seine. 

Thus fortified according to their respective tastes for 
the terrific scenes before them, the two armies prepared 
for battle. Their strength was nearly equal. The Rus- 
sian foi'ce consisted of one hundred and thirty thousand 
men, together with six hundred and fifty pieces of artil- 
lery. The French army was about equal to these in num- 
ber, with a similar quantity of artillery ; though thirty 
thousand of the French troops were cavalry, which gave 
them some advantage over their opponents. 

The Russians had fortified themselves in a strong po- 
sition in and around the village of Borodino. In the 
center they had erected a great redoubt which mounted 
a hundred guns. Around this work the most bloody and 
desj)erate conflicts of the day were destined to take place. 
By Napoleon's orders, the fierce Davoust commenced the 
battle by advancing against the Russian lines on the right. 
Slowly and steadily his columns approached the terrific 
line of flame which already marked the position of the 
Russian batteries. Before reaching them, Davoust had 
his horse shot under him, and Generals Rapp and Desaix 
were wounded. Confusion began to prevail among the 
advancing host, but they were reassured by the loud 
clarion voice of their dauntless leader, and were again led 



268 THE FURY OF THE CONFLICT. 

forward to the attack. After a fierce struggle the re- 
doubts on tlie Russian left were taken, and Davoust estab- 
lished himself in the position wrested from the foe. 

The center of the French army was led on by Marshal 
ISTey. He ordered three divisions to advance, supported 
by ten thousand cavalry under Murat ; and protected by 
seventy pieces of artUlery. They were opposed by the 
flower of the Russian troops under Prince Bagrathion. 
Soon the French columns came within range of the terri- 
ble deluge of shot and shell which was belched forth from 
the Russian batteries. On the heights of Borodino, un- 
daunted by the fearful havoc made in their lines, which 
crumbled like frost-work beneath the Russian fire, they 
BtiU advanced. Whole files and companies were swept 
down by the murderous flood ; but the cavities were in- 
stantly filled up, and still the tide of dauntless warriors 
rolled onward. On the heights of Borodino the most 
terrific conflict took place perhaps recorded in the history 
of warfare. After four hours of desperate fighting the 
Russians stiU maintamed their position ; and Marshal 'Ney 
anxiously demanded from Napoleon reinforcements to 
enable him to maintain his position. Napoleon ordered 
the Young Guard, all the cavalry yet in reserve, and four 
hundred pieces of cannon to advance, and to assail the 
great redoubt in the Russian center. Prince Eugene had 
already narrowly escaped being captured at the head of 
his column, which had saved themselves only by forming 
into squares, and thus presenting an impenetrable barrier 
to the attacks of the Russian cuirassiers. 

The immense reinforcement ordered by Napoleon 
against the Russian center, after prodigious conflicts and 



THE GREAT CENTRAL REDOUBT. 269 

immense losses from the artillery of the foe, succeeded in 
driving back the Russian line. At this crisis Prmce Ba- 
grathion perceiving the advantage gained by the French, 
ordered the whole left whig to advance to the attack. 
Then occurred one of those tremendous shocks of battle 
beneath which the very earth itself trembles. Eighty 
thousand men and seven hundred pieces of artillery con- 
tended on the plain during the s^jace of an hour for deadly 
mastery ; and prodigious feats of heroism, of desperate 
valor, of undying resolution, on both sides, to triumph or 
to perish, were exhibited. Blood flowed over the surface 
of the battle-field in torrents. Thousands of the dying 
and the dead lay heaped in piles, before, aroxmd, and be- 
neath the surviving combatants ; and it seemed that noth- 
uig could terminate the furious and deadly conflict, ex- 
cej)t the entire destruction of the contending hosts. 

At length Prince Bagrathion being severely wounded, 
the Russian ranks began to give way. They withdrew 
with all their artillery from their first position, and estab- 
lished themselves in its rear, in the ravine of Semenowsky. 
Still the great redoubt in the center remained untaken. 
ISTapoleon with his eagle eye, readily discovered the im- 
portance of that point, and about the middle of the day, 
he ordered Eugene, with two hundred cannon, to advance 
together with Monbran's division of cuirassiers to j)ene- 
trate the Russian line, and wheeling round, to enter the 
entrenchment through its gorge. It was defended by the 
regiment of Osterman ; and soon the redoubt was envel- 
oped in a vast cloud of flame and smoke, through which 
the glittering steel trappings of the cuirassiers were seen 
at intervals, gradually ascending its slopes, and appi-oach- 



i>70 THE VICTORY OF THE FRENCH. 

Lag its suminit. After a prodigious conflict the redoubt 
was won ; but not until the regiment which defended it 
were entu-ely massacred by the savage onslaught of the 
French. They refused to give or to receive any quarter ; 
and the whole of the corps of Osterman were slain withia 
the works, which they had so heroically defended. 

Driven to madness by the loss of their main fortress, 
the Russian hues which had taken up their position in its 
rear now again advanced, determined if possible, by un- 
heard-of efforts, to retrieve the fortunes of the day, Kutu- 
soff himself led on the attack. In admirable order they 
advanced toward the works which they had lost, which 
were now manned by the victorious French, whence 
eighty pieces of cannon thundered against their approach- 
ing ranks. They succeeded in taking some of the smaller 
redoubts; but their heroism was in vain. Thousands 
fell upon the field, displaying a degree of resolution un- 
equaled in war, but without effect. Distressed at the 
fruitless and hopeless butchery resulting from his advance, 
Kutusoff at length gave the order to retire, and resumed 
his former position on the heights, in the rear of the works 
won by the French. Seeing no decisive advantage gained 
either on the Russian right or left, toward the close of 
the day, he ordered a general retrograde movement of 
the whole line to the works in the rear of those which 
had been occupied by the Russians at the beginning of 
the conflict ; and thiis, when the shades of evening settled 
down over the ensanguined plain, the whole Une of the 
first Russian positions had fallen into the hands of the 
French. 

Once during the progress of this memorable day, victo- 



IMMENSE COST OF THE VICTORY. 271 

ry seemed about to perch upon the standards of the Rus- 
sians, and to desert the proud uivader. Kutusoff seeing 
the weakness of ISTapoleon's left, ordered Ouvaroff, with 
eight regiments of Cossacks, to cross the Kolotza, a 
stream in front of the Russian Hnes, and attack the left 
of the French. The impetuous and savage fury of the 
Cossacks was irresistible, and the French Unes, then un- 
supported by the artillery which had been dispatched 
against the grand redoubts, wavered, broke, and retreated 
before their desperate assault. The whole French hne 
began to give way. Napoleon, from the eminence on 
which he stood, saw by the aid of his spy-glass the great- 
ness of the disaster ; and his imperial cheek was paled 
with terror. The tremblmg phantoms of royalty and vic- 
tory appeared about to desert his standards ; and the 
wan finger of destiny seemed for a moment to point to- 
ward destruction as his doom. Then it was that he him- 
self rapidly rode to his wavering Hnes, accompanied by 
the cavalry and artillery of his guards ; and by prodigious 
efforts redeemed the fortunes of the day, and drove the 
Russians back again to their first position. 

Night came and the battle ended. The victory re- 
mained with Napoleon, but such a victory and at such a 
sacrifice ! The triumph itself brought no benefit with it ; 
for the Russians merely withdrew the next day toward , 
Moscow, leaving thousands of dead and woimded as ob-' 
stacles in the pathway of the invaders. The sacrifice? 
which this triumph cost Napoleon were indeed dreadful. 
Another such victory, and hke Pyrrhus of old he might 
exclaim that he was utterly ruined. For the space of six 
miles the plain was thickly covered with the dying and 



272 THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 

the dead. Prince Bagrathion and thirty generals, fifteen 
thousand killed and thirty thousand wounded, were the 
losses of the Russians ; while Napoleon mourned the 
death of Generals Monbrun and Canlaincourt, and the 
loss of twelve thousand killed, and thirty-eight thousand 
wounded. Nearly ninety thousand human beings, either 
killed or wounded then lay welteiing in their blood upon 
that memorable field ; while as far as the eye could reach 
there was visible nothing but a tumultuous heap of hu- 
man bodies, horses, broken guns, casques, cuirasses, hel- 
mets, and other faded and bloody trophies of the glory 
and magnificence of war. Wounded horses maddened 
with the pain, struggled among the piles of slain. The 
wounded soldiers filled the air with their shrieks of agony 
calling in vain for help and succor ; for the resources of 
the French surgeons were totally insufficient to meet a 
thousandth part of the demands made ujDon them. Na- 
poleon from the eminence on which he had watched the 
progress of the battle, gloomily surveyed the appalling 
spectacle after the conflict was ended. His triumph instead 
of filling his mind with exultation, savored more of the 
sadness of defeat. His losses had been terrible. His 
only advantage was that he remained possessor of the 
battle field, and this was no equivalent for the immense 
losses which he had endured. In the resolution and for- 
titude displayed by the Russians, he saw an ominous pre- 
sage of future resistance and disaster which he had not 
anticipated. He rightly judged that the worst was yet 
to come. 

The condition of the French army after the battle of 
Borodino, was in the highest degree unfortunate and dis- 



RESOLUTIOX TO BURN MOSCOW. 273 

oouraging. For miles on both sides along the road to 
Moscow, the retreating Russians had devastated the 
country, had burned the houses, destroyed the provisions, 
and rendered it almost impossible for the invaders to pro- 
cure means of subsistence. Thousands of horses perished 
from hunger. 'Nov was the want of food the only disas- 
ter which befel them. The French army had nearly ex- 
hausted their amunition, and had barely enough remain- 
ing to suffice for one more battle. At Borodino they had 
expended ninety-one thousand cannon shot ; and not an 
equal quantity remained in the possession of the invaders. 
The soldiers were compelled to the necessity of subsisting 
almost entirely on the flesh of horses. So reduced indeed 
bad they become after the battle of Borodino, and during 
the subsequent march toward Moscow, that had the Rus- 
sians been acquainted with the real condition of their foe, 
they would not have sacrificed that ancient capital, but 
would have hazarded another great battle, in which it is 
very probable they would have gained a decisive victory. 

But ignorant as they were of these facts, the Russian 
generals in a council of war, adopted the wisest, and at 
the same time, the most extraordinary resolution not to 
venture another great conflict, nor yet to attempt the de- 
f(!nse of Moscow; but to abandon the capital to the 
French, set fire to its myriad houses, and thus, between 
the lurid flames of the immense conflagration, and the in- 
tensity of the approachmg winter's cold, to vanquish a foe 
who seemed invincible by any ordinary resistance or 
resources. 

Count Rostopchin, who was then governor of Moscow, 

acquiesced in the stern purpose, and was the first to pio- 
L* 18 



274 FIRST VIEW OF MOSCOW. 

claim and commend it to the astonished inhabitants. 
With a degree of self-sacrificing patriotism which haa 
no parallel in the history of nations, the inhabitants of Mos- 
cow immediately obeyed the mandate ; and three hun- 
dred thousand people at once began to travel forth by 
the eastern gates leaving behind them their splendid pal- 
aces, their valuable merchandize, and the accumulated 
wealth and rare treasures of ages, to become the pl'ey of 
the devouring element. In three days the city was en- 
tu'ely deserted excej)t by a few hundreds of the lowest 
and most abandoned of the inhabitants. 

It was at eleven o'clock on the 14th of September, 1812, 
when the advanced guard of the French army, under Mu- 
rat, reached the heights on the Smolensk© road, fi-om 
which the first view of Moscow could be obtained. 
There, reposing with stately magnificence in the plain be- 
low them, appeared the celebrated city, whose gilded 
spires and temples of mingled Asiatic and European 
architecture, proudly pierced the heavens, and seemed to 
herald the entrance of the invaders within the precincts of 
another continent, and proclaim their sudden advent into 
the gorgeous portals of the east. As far as the eye could 
reach the plain was covered with a heterogeneous varie- 
ty of palaces, churches, gardens, I'ivers, public and private 
edifices, and the innumerable dwellings of the various 
classes, all basking in silent and stately loveliness, in the 
mellowed rays of an autumnal sun. 

As the diiferent divisions of the French army reached 
the eminence from which this view first greeted their 
gaze, their enthusiasm burst forth in shouts of frenzied 
triumph ; and the words " Moscow ! Moscow ! " rever- 



NAPOLEON'S ENTRANCE INTO MOSCOW. 275 

burated over the waste, as the sound was taken up and 
repeated by the enthusiastic French, from rank to rank. 
The excitement even reached Naj^oleon himself. He 
hastened forward to obtain a view of that gorgeous prize 
for which he had akeady risked and endured so much. 
He gazed for some moments in silence at the city, and 
then exclaimed : " Behold ! at last there is Moscow," and 
after a pause he added with a sigh — " It was high time ! " 
Napoleon delayed a day in the expectation that a depu- 
tation of the magistrates would wait upon hun, and dehver 
the keys of the city into his hands. He waited in vam. 
Disgusted at their apparent ignorance or indifference, he 
gave the order to advance, and his legions approached and 
entered the gates of Moscow. As he rode along the 
streets the sight of the antique towers, and the Tartaric 
style of architecture which characterized the palaces and 
temples, charmed and dehghted him ; and his admira- 
tion was raised to the highest pitch when he aiDproached 
the Kremhn. This was a vast assemblage of palaces, a 
city within itself, partakiag also somewhat of the charac- 
ter of a fortress ; for it was defended by walls and tow- 
ers, containing loop-holes and embrasures for the use of 
cannon. This stupendous and irregu.lar pile of palaces 
and churches had for ages been the home and the burying 
place of Muscovite kings ; and Napoleon's imagination 
was powerfully impressed with the thought that he had 
at length added this vast trophy of barbaric pomp and 
oriental splendor, to the long hst of his other conquests 
He had drfeamed in his youth of an expedition to the 
faxther east, by which he would dethrone some Persian 
or Arabian monarch and assume his scepter. That dream 



2V6 APPEARAISrCE OF MOSCOW. 

had never been realized. His expedition to Egypt had 
been but a partial and feeble substitute for it. But now, 
as the peerless Moscow lay unresisting at his feet, he 
seemed once more to approach nearer to the literal fol- 
fiUment of his youthful hope. 

Napoleon had reached the Kremlin before he became 
aware of the apjoaUing fact that he had entered a deserted 
city. No living creature appeared except his own 
soldiers, either to welcome or to oppose his entrance. 
At length he became fully aware of the real fact in the 
case, and he gave utterance to his astonishment and in- 
dignation in unmeasured terms of execration. No depu- 
tation of magistrates or nobles waited on hun, humbly 
tendering him the keys of the city. No joyous popula- 
tion greeted him as their deliverer from antiquated tyr- 
anny. No smiling princesses haUed him as the modern 
Alexander, carrying his conquests toward the confines of 
the east; or lavished such compliments on him as beauty 
alone can bestow on the heroic and the illustrious. He 
was surrounded by an unbroken silence, the suspicious 
silence and solitude of a city of the dead. At length 
Napoleon entered the Kremlin, and established his head 
quarters in its gilded halls. 

During one night, the night of the 14th of September, 
Napoleon slept in peace in his newly found home. His 
officers and soldiers fi-eely jiillaged the imoccupied palaces 
which had been deserted by their owners. Tumultuous 
riot and revelry, such as only attend in the pathway of 
conquest, prevailed throughout the vast city, thus sud- 
denly deprived of its legitimate owners. In entering 
many of the palaces, the French soldiers found the richly 



NAPOLEOIS^'S FIRST NIGHT IN MOSCOW. • 277 

furnished apartments with all their valuable contents of 
art, and furniture, and plate, precisely as their proprietors 
usually disposed of them. No attempt had been made 
at concealment or protection. Napoleon slept that night 
at least in peace. The extraordinary exertions which he had 
recently undergone, at length overpowered his physical 
frame, and nature gave way beneath them. He dreamed, 
as he reposed under the gorgeous hangings of the royal 
couch of Alexander, the absent czar ; and his thoughts 
wandered far away over a thousand hills and vales, to 
the spot which contained his beloved wife, and idohzed 
child, the king of Rome. His faithful attendants during 
'the night saw a smile playing upon his lips, and heard the 
name of his fair son uttered in tones of deepest tenderness. 
It was a pleasing dream, a sweet illusion ; from the gentle 
spell of which the stern conqueror was soon to wake to 
behold scenes of horror and dismay, unparalleled even in 
his memorable career of peril, vicissitude, and suffering. 

On the 15th of September a fire first ajjpeared in the 
Bazaar, which rapidly extended untU a considerable j)or- 
tion of the surrounding city was in flames. A large part 
of the French army was at that moment so intoxicated 
by the wines and hquors which they found in the cellars 
of the deserted palaces, that they could afford no effectual 
resistance to the progress of the flames. The conflagra- 
tion continued to rage with terrific fury, and unseen hands 
carried the torch of destruction in a hundred secret places, 
thus adding to its extent, and to the difficulty of subject- 
ing it to control. During the night of the 15th, and dur- 
ing the whole of the 16th, 17th, and 18th of September, 
the fury < tf the flames increased, until at length the whole 



278 MOSCOW IN FLAMES. 

city seemed enveloped in one vast conflagration, which 
filled the entire horizon, and gradually approached nearer 
and nearer to the Kremlin. 

At night the spectacle was terrific and sublime, far be- 
yond the power of language to depict. A brighter fight 
than that of the noonday smi banished darkness from the 
earth for many mUes around. Immense palaces, temples, 
tapering and lofty spires, enveloped in flames, fell with a 
tremendous crash which shook the ground. Loud explo- 
sions of combustible materials continually occurred, 
which seemed like the report of an unseen battle. Float- 
ing fragments of burnmg material were wafted by the 
fitful winds through the midnight heavens, carrying de-' 
struction where the hands of the secret incendiary could 
not reach. At length on the 19th, the Kremlin itself 
took fire, and the mighty but humbled conquei'or of a 
tiundred battles, was compelled to evacuate a conquest in 
5vhich he took so great a pride, and for the attainment of 
which he had made such immense sacrifices. So general 
had the conflagration by this time become, that it was 
with great difficulty, and amid imminent perU, that Na- 
poleon and his suite could pass through the burning 
streets on their way to the gates. He arrived however, 
at length, at Petrowsky, a palace situated several miles 
from Moscow, and from this retreat the bafiled invader 
had leisure to contemplate the unparalleled ch'cumstances 
of disappointment, disaster, and danger, which at that 
moment surrounded him. As he gazed from the hot win- 
dows of this palace at the tumultuous ocean of fire and 
flame which extended for miles along the horizon before 
him, Napoleon is said to have exclaimed : " This sad 



NAPOLEON IN THE KREMLIN. 2Y9 

event is the presage of a long train of disasters ! " Nor 
did his usual sagacity desert him in making this predic- 
tion, as the sequel abundantly proved. 

By the 20th of September the fire had exhausted itself. 
Moscow was in ruins. But by some strange good fortune 
the Kremlin had in a great measure escaped destruction ; 
and ISTapoleon after an absence of several days, returned 
to it again. The place seemed to have exercised a strange 
fascination over his mind. There was to him an inde- 
scribable rapture in dating decrees from the Kremlin, 
which were to be obeyed alike at Paris, at Naples, at 
Madrid, and at Vienna. This fascination he seemed al- 
most unable to resist. He therefore very unwisely spent 
four weeks in this romantic abode ; during which time 
the season advanced, and the horrors of winter rapidly 
approached. It seems that the policy which the Russian 
monarch had determined to adopt, consisted of two 
points. The first was to amuse and delay Napoleon by 
appearances of negotiation, though never actually to enter 
into any serious arrangements with him. By this means 
the retreat of the French would be delayed until winter 
set in. 

The other point was to satiate the deadly vengeance 
which the Russian army had sworn to execute on the 
ruthless invaders of their country, by. collecting immense 
armies for the purpose of intercepting the French on their 
retreat, and destroying them by the combined force of 
the winter's fury, and the ceaseless and relentless attacks 
of the troops of the czar. By the treaties which Alexan- 
der had recently concluded with the Turks and the king 
of Sweden, two immense armies, each fifty thousand 



280 NAPOLEON'S EFFORTS TO NEGOTIATE. 

strong, were released from their services on the northern 
and southern frontiers of the emjDire ; and were at liberty 
to march at once upon the Une of the retreat of the 
French army. With these, Witgenstein was hastening 
from the north toward Polotsk ; and Tchichagoff was 
rapidly approaching Borissow from the, south. Other 
armies, under Kutusoff and Barclay de Tolly — the heroic 
veterans of Smolensko and Borodino — were passing by a 
rapid circuitous route in front of the French line of re- 
treat, i^reparing to intercept them. 

Meanwhile, at the Kremhn, Napoleon had made sev- 
eral overtures to the czar, for the purpose of inducing 
him to treat; They were aU in vain. At length, driven 
to desperation, he dispatched a private letter to Alexan- 
der, couched m terms of personal friendship and regard ; 
in which he touchingly referred to theu' former intimacy, 
and urged him for the sake of their suffering armies and 
subjects to agree to negotiate. To this letter, also, he re- 
ceived no answer whatever. 

At length, on the 13th of October, the first snow feU; 
and the sleeping and imprisoned giant was suddenly 
aroused from his delusive dreams. At the same moment 
that he received this monition from the great voice of Na- 
ture, the news reached him of the fall of Madrid ; of the 
entry of the EngUsn army iato that capital ; and of the 
deposition and flight of his brother JosejDh. Cursing the 
evil destiny which seemed to attend him, Napoleon at 
length gave orders to prepare for the retreat, and on the 
15th of the month the veterans of Napoleon, who a short 
month before had first beheld the capital of the czars 
^ith such exulting and triimiphant joy, now turned their 



THE RETREAT BEGINS. 281 

oacks in sullen gloom from the spot where Moscow once 
had stood in stately splendor ; and commenced that mem- 
orable retreat, surrounded by such unparalleled horrors, 
which so few of them were ever destined to termuiate 
within the confines of their native land. 

The first moment of ISTapoleon's march was the signal 
for the commencement of active hostihties on the part of 
the alert generals and armies of the czar. The retreating 
troops were encumbered with the richest spoils of Mos- 
cow. They carried away with them an immense quantity 
of gold and silver plate, sumptuous and rich apparel, silks, 
embroideries, valuable pictures, and other rare works of 
art of inestimable value. Common soldiers might be seen 
overloaded with articles of Asiatic luxury and barbaric 
splendor. Beasts of burden groaned beneath the weight 
of plundered treasures from a hundred magnificent pala- 
ces. Among the rest, by Napoleon's express orders, the 
great cross of St. Ivan was borne along as his own par- 
ticular trophy of conquest, together with the standards 
of eastern climes — of Turkey, of Persia, and China, which 
had been won by Russian prowess in many a far-distant 
and bloody field. 

When the retreat began, the fair weather which soon 
returned, the rich spoils which the soldiers bore, and the 
gay revelry of the forty thousand camp-foUowers who at- 
tended them, among whom were many young Russian 
women, who had been ^seduced by the wiles of the pleas- 
ing invaders to embx'ace the opportunity to return with 
them to Paris — gave the march the joyful air of a triumph- 
ant procession. But soon the whole aspect of affaii'S 
was changed, and sadly changed, for the worse. 



282 PLANS OF THE RUSSIANS. 

Meanwhile, Kutusoff was hastening with one hundred 
thousand men, and seven hundred pieces of cannon, to- 
ward the town of Wiazma, at which point the Russian 
commander determined to inflict the first great blow 
upon the army of the invader. A long journey of seven 
hundred nules lay before his retreating soldiers in the 
midst of a hostile and barren country ; and it was time to 
commence the terrific task of crushing and obhterating 
the host of wearied and overburdened soldiers from whose 
standards victory had fled. 

On the second of November, Platoff", with ten thousand 
Cossacks, made a furious onslaught on the rear of the 
army. The whole body of Russian cavalry under Was- 
siltchikoff attacked the main line of the French retreat, 
and established themselves on both sides of the Smolensk© 
^oad, along which the line of retreat lay. The rear guard 
■ of Davoust fled before the desultory but furious attack of 
the Cossacks. The vanguard of the Russians under Ku- 
tusofi" commenced a cannonade on the corps of 'Nej ; and 
the division of General Paskiewitz attacked the center of 
the French posted in the town of Wiazma, and drove 
them through the streets at the point ot the bayonet. 

During this engagement the French lost six thousand 
men. Before this battle the corps of Davoust alone had 
lost ten thousand men by fatigue and desertion ; and the 
whole French army had been reduced in proportion. Na- 
poleon had again been vanquished, and as a natural con- 
sequence, despondency and a growing disregard for dis- 
cipline and order pervaded the feelings and marked the 
conduct of the retreating troops. 

It was on the 6th of November that the snow began to 



THE WINTER COMMENCES. 283 

fall, and the rigors of a Russian winter to commence ; and 
from this date commenced the real horrors and unpar- 
alleled disasters of the retreat. With the falling snow 
the wind began to be high and furious, and soon immense 
drifts obstructed the roads, and rendered it difficult for 
the wearied and burdened troops to advance. It was not 
until winter came, that the Russians displayed the real 
atrocities of the course of retribution which they had de- 
termined to inflict upon their invaders. Then it was that 
■•the fierce vengeance of the flying clouds of Cossacks be- 
gan to exhibit itself. Hanging on the outskirts of the 
wearied and straggling lines of French soldiers, by sud- 
den attacks they slew thousands singly and in small com- 
panies, as they struggled throiigh the snow. At the 
same time hundreds fell upon the way exhausted by the 
labors of the march. The roads soon became impassable 
for the artillery, and hundreds of guns were left behind at 
the base of each rising hill. The soldiers soon became 
unable to transport their ammunition ; and frequent ex- 
plosions in the rear of their path, and on the outskirts, in- 
dicated how frequently the ammunition wagons were sac- 
rificed rather than left to the possession of the pursuers. 
And soon the road became strewed with the rich and 
stolen spoils of Moscow, to which, till then, their captors 
had clung with the same tenacity as they clung to hfe ; 
even these, the immense toils and perils of the way com- 
pelled them to sacrifice. 

In one week's time after the commencement of the 
wintry weather, thirty thousand men had j)erished. The 
path of the retreating army was now marked by a long 
line of deserted cannon, of exploded wagons, and of free*- 



■J 84 HORRORS OF THE RETREAT. 

ing and dying men and horses. So terrible had the des- 
titxxtion already become, that many of the French soldiers 
I'ioted in horse flesh ; and even others, it is said, did not 
abstain fi-om assuaging their horrid pangs by eating hu- 
man bodies. During the hours of darkness the country 
became a howling wUderness. Far and wide over the 
snowy waste, no sign of human habitation, no sound of 
human sympathy was seen or heard. The driving snow- 
drifts threatened to bury the wearied soldiers beneath 
their cold embrace ; and when morning dawned, the frag-, 
ments of the bivouack-fires were surrounded by circles of 
frozen bodies, which during the night had perished in si- 
lence as they lay, from the intensity of the cold. 

Napoleon who still remained with his fated army, con- 
centrated aU his endeavors toward reachiag Smolensko. 
At this place he had previously ordered immense stores 
of provisions to be collected, when on his forward march 
toward Moscow ; and he hoped that when his retreating 
troops reached this spot, he would be able to retrieve a 
large portion of the disasters of his defeat. He therefore 
urged on his troops along the Smolensko road, sacrificing 
everything which impeded their advance. By this time 
nearly the whole of his baggage and artiQery had been 
left behind ; and he now even ordered the great cross of 
St. Ivan, which had adorned the loftiest pinnacle of the 
Kremlin, and the Turkish and Persian standards, to be 
sunken in the waters of an adjoiuiug lake. During all 
this time the attacks on his troops by the relentless Cos- 
sacks continued uninterrupted. Kutusofi" with an im- 
mense army stiU. hovered around his rear, waiting for a 



NAPOLEON AT SMOLENSKO. 285 

propitious opportunity and favorable ground to bring the 
exhausted French to another general engagement. 

At length, on the 9th of November, Napoleon arrived 
at Smolensko. The lofty towers and gilded domes of its 
cathedral, again greeted the eyes of his wearied and fam- 
ished troops, who, by this time, had been diminished by 
one half, from the mighty armament which, on the ad- 
vance toward Moscow, had beheld them. Here from the 
9th to the 13th they reposed; and Napoleon put forth 
prodigious exertions to recruit his shattered forces. His 
cavalry, which numbered forty thousand men when they 
first crossed the Niemen, had now been reduced to the 
pitiful sum of eight hundred ; and of all his vast arma- 
ment with which he entered Russia of five hundred thou- 
sand men, but seventy thousand now remained, of whom 
forty thousand alone were efiective troops. 

On the 14th of November the French army resumed 
its mournful retreat. The emperor, with the old and new 
guard, came first. Next came the division of the viceroy 
Eugene. Then followed Davoust with the main body of 
the army ; whUe Ney still continued to conduct the rear. 
On the iVthof November the Russian general Kutusoff 
was enabled to bring the French emperor to another gen- 
eral engagement at Krasnoi. His host of wearied sol- 
diers still continued to waste away by hundreds daily ; and 
a stronger hope of a complete triumph now encouraged 
the mind of Kutusoff, in making another combined attack 
upon his enemy. Prince GaUtzin, with the Russian center, 
furiously attacked the Young Guard, and succeeded in 
achieving a result which had never before been accom- 
pHshed. Sorely pressed on all sides, the guard had 



286 DAVOUST AKD THE COSSACKS. 

formed into squares, and one of these squares Galitzin 
broke, and absolutely destroyed. Davoust's division was 
enveloped by an immense cloud of Cossacks, who attacked 
his division with their accustomed fury, and threw it into 
confusion. The Russians carried by assault the village 
of Krasnoi where ISTapoleon was posted, and compelled 
him to retire. At the close of the conflict, the ha- 
rassed, exhausted, and perishing army of the invader had 
lost six thousand prisoners, forty-five pieces of cannon, 
two imperial standards, an immense quantity of baggage, 
and the private archives of Napoleon. 

There was a spectacle exhibited during this retreat, 
comically unique, and yet terrible in its character, which 
no other warUke movements have ever displayed. For 
many leagues the whole division of Davoust, now reduced 
to five thousand men out of seventy thousand, pursued their 
slow and tedious march completely enveloj)ed on all sides 
by clouds of flying Cossacks, who kept even pace with 
their march, and constantly harassed them with their ex- 
hausting and desultory attacks. 

At length, on the 23d of ISTovember, the French army 
reached the banks of the Beresina. The bridge which 
crossed this river had been destroyed by Tchichagoff, 
who had advanced from the south ; and this calamity 
compelled IN'apoleon to construct another for the passage 
of his troops. He immediately commanded his engineers 
to commence the task. A corps of sappers threw them- 
selves into the river up to their necks in the swelling 
flood, and heroically labored to accomplish the herculean 
task. The cavalry were commanded to swim over the 
stream while the process of construction was advancing. 



PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA. 287 

At length the bridge was sufficiently finished for the in- 
fantry to pass over. The passage hegan and contmued 
during the 25th, and 26th, and amid attacks of the Rus- 
sians on both sides of the river, the French army suc- 
ceeded with immense difficulty in reachmg the opposite 
bank, with the exception of the division of General Par- 
tonneaux, composed of seven thousand men, who were 
surrounded by the everlastmg Cossacks under Platoff, 
and at length compelled to surrender themselves prison- 
ers of war. 

It was during the passage of the rear division of Mar- 
shal Victor over the bridge, that one of the most terri- 
ble scenes ever witnessed, was presented to view. The 
Russian artillery under Diebitch was brought to bear 
directly upon the bridge, ladened with the retreating 
multitude. A wide semi-circle of cannon swept the whole 
line of the bridge, with a deluge of fiery shot and shell, 
carrying death and dismay into the tumultuous crowd, 
from whose ranks all discipline had long been banished. 
Terror seemed to fill every Inind, and a maddened rush 
forward to escape imj)ending ruin was seen on all sides. 
Hundreds were trampled to death beneath the feet of 
their comrades. The cannon of the Russians ploughed 
through and through the thick masses of livmg flesh. 
Heaps of the dead and dying were piled on the bridge, 
and began to imj)ed€ the passage. At this crisis, the 
cannon balls broke the bridge in the center, and set the 
two extremities on fire. A scene of horror then ensued 
which beggars all language. The frantic crowd were com- 
pelled to plunge into the hall-fi'ozen flood below, and 
swim for their lives. Thous-ands of men, women, and 



288 NAPOLEON DESERTS HIS ARMY 

horses perislied, trampled to death by the struggling 
multitude, or drowned by the waters of the stream. 
When the ice dissolved in the ensuing sj)ring, twelve thou- 
sand dead bodies were found — the victims of this horijd 
and memorable passage. 

At length, on the 5th of December, N^apoleon arrived 
with the wrecks of' his army at Smorgoni. Here he dic- 
tated his celebrated 29th bulletin, in which, for the first 
time, he proclaimed the real horrors of his condition and 
losses. He placed the supreme command in the hands of 
Murat, and set off with Caulaincourt and Loban, at ten 
o'clock at night for, Paris. He had received news of Mal- 
let's conspiracy in the French capital, and he determined 
to leave his unfortunate army to their impending doom, 
and make good his own escaj)e beyond the Russian terri- 
tory. He traveled in a small hritschha, placed on low 
runners, made out of rude fir wood. He journeyed 
night and day with his two companions, closely wrapped 
up in heavy furs. 

Silently and gloomily the fallen monarch traversed, as 
rapidly as his wearied horses could draw him, the im- 
mense and cheerless plains of Poland. Hoiv singular 
must have been his reflections during this sad journey ! 
His insatiable ambition had at length been foiled in its 
audacious attempt to grasp the scepter of universal 
sovereignty. He had been the cause of the ruin of a 
million of his fellow creatures, and the curses loud and 
deep of myriads of bereaved widows and oriDhans, over 
the whole continent, rang in his ears, as the just knell of 
future and inevitable retribution. Did he care for or 
feel the ponderous weight of all these curses ? It is 



RESULTS OF THE EXPEDITION. 289 

doubtful ! Ambition, when it becomes insatiable, be- 
comes also lost to every dictate of reason, humanity, and 
justice ; and it is probable that in the dark breast of this 
great, bad man, the only prevalent feeluig was chagrin at 
his own discomfiture, and apprehension as to the future 
evils which impended over him. 

Deserted by their emperor, the French army still con- 
tinued its retreat ; and finally arrived at the banks of the 
Niemen, the confines of the Russian territory, on the 12th 
of December. Out of that vast and imposing armament 
of five hundred thousand men, which in the preceding 
June had crossed that river, ghttering in all the pride, 
pomp, and majesty of war, twenty thousand enfeebled and 
exhausted specters alone tottered over it on their return ! 
All the rest had perished, or had been captured during 
the progress of this memorable expedition — as sacrifices 
ofiered upon the altar of the insatiable ambition of one 
bold and unprincipled but gifted adventurer. 

In reflectmg on this picture of ruin and unparalleled woe, 
it is diflicult to convey any adequate idea of the real im- 
portance and magnitude of the events involved in it. 
From the day the French army crossed the Niemen till 
that. of its return to its shores, one hundred and twenty- 
five thousand men had been slain in battle ; one hundred 
and thirty-two thousand had perished of cold, famine, and 
fatigue ; one hundred and ninety thousand had been taken 
prisoners and subjected afterward to all the hoi'rors of 
Siberian captivity. In addition to these it should be re- 
membered, that in the various battles fought witli the 
Russians, the latter had also lost an immense number of 

men. It is computed that the kiUed and wounded in the 
M 19 



290 NAPOLEON EE ACHES PARIS. 

Russian armies amounted at least to one hundred and 
fifty thousand men during the six months of ISTapoIeon's 
invasion. What a stupendous and iacalculable amount 
of sufferuig had this one single daring and prodigious ven- 
ture of Napoleon, inflicted on a mourning, weeping, and 
agonizing continent ! 

At length, on the 20th of December, 1812, Napoleon 
reached Paris. He arrived unheralded, at midnight. 
His first care was to convict and punish MaUet and his 
confederates, who had dared, in his absence, to menace 
the security of his throne. Soon the pitiful remains of 
his once "grand army" began to arrive at the French 
capital ; and by their diminished numbers and frightful 
appearance of sufiering and misery, opened the eyes of 
the astonished Parisians to the full extent of the horrors 
and losses of the expedition. 

The mighty genius of Napoleon never recovered from 
the disastrous efiects of this memorable campaign. An 
outraged continent soon assembled its armies on the con- 
fines of France, determined by one prodigious effort to 
destroy forever the power of the great curse of modern 
times. Closer and closer the lines were drawn around 
the hunted lion, by his determined pursuers ; and his pro- 
digious bounds failed to extricate him from their gather- 
ing toils. At last, at Leipsic, the memorable battle was 
fought — fitly called " the battle of the nations " — at which 
Europe concentrated her energies at one mighty blow to 
crush the common foe, and the relentless oppressor of aU. 

Yet, amid these continued disasters, the amazing genius 
of this extraordinary man remained undismayed. Yielding 
for the time being to the necessity laid upon him by the 



NAPOLEON AT ELBA. 291 

voice of destiny, he accepted with a good grace the prot 
fared toy of Elba's dimiautive diadem, and retired thither 
to rest for an interval from his labors ; and then once 
more to come forth and convulse the continent anew with 
his restless energy and ambition — ^to enact the 'memorable 
drama of Waterloo, and the Hmidred Days I 



CHAPTER XII. 

NAPOLEON DUKING THE HUNDRED DATS. 

The most briniant asserablage of beauty, celebrity, 
and fashion, which ever graced a capital with theu" courtly 
presence, was the European congress which convened in 
Vienna in 1815. It was then thought that the formidable 
hero who for twenty years had agitated the continent with 
the throes of his ambition, had been safely and permanently 
caged at Elba ; and there had congregated in the palaces 
of the voluptuous and stately capital of the imperial house 
of Hapsburg, a galaxy of illustrious statesmen, of skillful 
diplomatists, of heroic warriors, of powerfiil monarchs, 
and of witty, fascinating and accomplished women such 
the world had never before beheld in one single view. 
The distracted affaii's of Europe were then indeed to be 
settled ; but neither the cares of business nor of ambition 
in the least degree impeded the more pleasing and attrac- 
tive pursuits of intrigue, flirtation, and pleasure. 

The emperor of Russia, the kings of Prussia, Bavaria, 
Denmark, and Wurtemberg, and a miscellaneous collec- 
tion of grand-dukes, margraves, dukes and electors who 
governed the petty principalities of Germany, were there 
in person. The British empire was represented by Lord 
Castlereagh, and the Duke of Wellington ; France by the 
illustrious Talleyrand ; Prussia by Hardenberg and Hum- 



THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 293 

boldt ; and the Austrian sovereign by Mettemich, he who 
alone of EuroiDejin diplomatists had once over-reached 
and outhed Napoleon himself. The kings of Spain, 
Portugal, Sweden, and Naples, of Sicily, Bavaria, Saxony 
and the Netherlands, together with the Swiss and Genoese 
repubhcs, had all sent their ablest diplomatists to repre- 
sent them. And while the greatest legislators and soldiers 
of Eui'ope were assembled there, in those high halls of 
state, the potency of woman's softer and sweeter charms 
was fitly represented and exercised by some of the most 
accomplished and fascinating of the sex, by Madam Grandt, 
by the countess -de Fuchs, and by many other very cele- 
brated belles and beauties, some of stainless and some of 
easy virtue. Thus the grave deliberations of the con- 
gress were agreeably alleviated and diversified by the 
most briUiant assemblies, by the most sumptuous banquets, 
by the most delicious fetes^ by the most exquisite flirta- 
tions, and the most voluptuous excesses which the prolific 
imagination of man can conceive. 

At the very moment when these scenes were gaily pro- 
gressing at Vienna, another, and a somewhat different 
one, was being enacted at Elba. The generosity of the 
alhed sovereigns of Europe had j)laced Napoleon as an 
independent monarch on this island, which was situat-ed 
near the Tuscan coast, and within view of the soil of 
Italy. He was permitted to possess an ample revenue, 
and an armed force which soon amounted to a thousand 
men. Three small vessels of war were also at his disposal ; 
and he maintained aU the dignities, prerogatives and 
cej'emonies of a court, with the same degree of formality 
as when he presided at the Tuilleries, or St. Claud. He 



^94 NAPOLEON'S BALL AT ELBA. 

was constantly surrounded Tby many illustrious visitors of 
both sexes, and the society of his diminutive empire was 
brilliant and distinguished in the extreme. 

On the 26th of February, 1815, the ex-emperor gave a 
ball ill the palace of Porto Ferrajo, his capital, to which 
all the persons of consequence on the island were invited. 
Rarely had Parisian elegance and splendor displayed any- 
thing more attractive and select than that assemblage. 
All the foreign ministers were present. The queenly 
Pauline Bonaparte presided, and threw over the scene 
that luster which her own peerless grace and beauty alone 
could impart. Napoleon himself seemed to be in unusu- 
ally good spirits. He passed around the room and con- 
versed gaUy with his numerous guests. To have looked 
upon that marble brow and those finely chiselled features, 
then wreathed with smiles, the witchery of which ex- 
ceeded that of all others' smiles, no one would have imag- 
ined that at that very moment Napoleon was about to 
execute the boldest, the most dangerous, and the most 
desperate enterprise of his whole Ufe. The hours wore 
quickly on. The dancing had began. Sweet music and 
fair forms floated gracefully through that brilliant hall, 
and while the attention of the assembly was attracted to 
the amusements which were going forward, the great 
conqueror drew aside into a remote alcove, one of the 
most lovely of her sex for a moment's private converse. 
The person thus highly honored by imperial favor was a 
Pohsh lady of rare beauty. She had fascmated ISTapoleon 
before the battle of Eylau, and had retained her potent 
influence over him ever since. Her charms of mmd 
equalled her charms of person ; and she seemed not un- 



MADAM WALEWSKI. 295 

worthy to be the vanquisher of the vanquisher of Eu- 
rope. She had followed him to his retreat at Elba ; and 
her society had largely contributed to alleviate the mo- 
notony of his residence there. This lady was the cele- 
brated Madam Walewski, the mother of the French di- 
plomatist, who presided over the deliberations of the 
peace congress at Paris in 1856, With this beautiful and 
voluptuous woman Napoleon spent a short time in cheer- 
ful and witty dalliance unobserved by the gay crowd. 
To her alone, of aU that crowd, he communicated the 
daring venture he was about to make. He also made an 
arrangement with her to follow him soon to Paris ; and 
then quietly withdrew, unnoticed, from the baU-room. 

At that moment a thousand men were drawn up on the 
quay of Porto Ferrajo, waiting for the appearance of the 
emperor. They were under the command of Bertrand, 
Cambronne and Drouot. Napoleon immediately joined 
them and gave the instant order to embark. He him- 
self stepped on board the brig Inconstant, which con- 
tained four hundred of his veteran guards. His appear- 
ance was calm and resolute. He said boldly to those 
around him : " The die is now cast." The night was se- 
rene, and the moon shone brightly upon that adventurous 
flotilla freighted with the fortunes of one, even greater 
and more illustrious than Cassar, He directed the pilots 
to steer for the coast of Provence. As soon as the soldiers 
learned that they were on their dfrect way to France, 
they displayed the utmost enthusiasm ; and then loud 
shouts of vive Pempereur,' echoed and reechoed over the 
wide surface of the tranquil deep. Dui-ing the voyage 
they once came within hail of a French brig. The soldifera 



296 NAPOLEON EMBARKS FOR FRANCE. 

lay flat on the deck that they might not he discovered, 
and the captain of the vessel asked whether they had 
come from Elba, and how Napoleon was. Napoleon him- 
self rephed : II se porte a 7nerveille ! In the afternoon of 
the lii-st of March the flotilla cast anchor in the Gulf of 
St. Juan, and immediately Napoleon and his adventurous 
companions disembarked on the soil of their beloved 
France. 

The purpose of Napoleon in making this sudden de- 
scent upon the French territory is well known. He de- 
signed to regain his lost throne. He intended to make 
a triumjDhant progress through the provinces ; gathering 
the augmenting strength and power of an avalanche as he 
advanced ; and thus vested with a new omni23otence to 
arrive in Paris, to drive Louis XVIII, from the throne, 
and to resume his forfeited empire. All these brilliant 
calculations came very near being totally disappointed at 
their outset. The great hero of Austerlitz and Wagram 
very narrowly escaped the ignominious penalty which at- 
tends in all countries the commission of common treason. 
Having sent twenty-five of his old gu^ard to seduce the 
garrison of Antibes in the name of the emperor, the 
commander of the fortress, General Corsin, ordered them 
to be arrested. The failure of this first attempt on the 
part of the desperate adventurer was an evil omen ; and 
indeed it spread very considerable dismay among the 
soldiers of Napoleon. Even Napoleon himself was aston- 
ished, and for a few moments stunned, by this miexpected 
reverse. He had imagmed that the potent magic of his 
great name would disjDel every obstacle ; that the soldiers 
of France would rally in multitudes around his standards ; 



THE MARCH TO GRENOBLE. 29'i 

and that he would have Ibiit little difficulty to contend 
with in his pathway of ti'iumph. Now, however, he saw 
his very first attempt utterly faU and his future progress 
might only involve him in further and perhaps fatal perils. 
But Napoleon's mind had now reached a state of des- 
peration ; he had gone too far to recede ; and he deter- 
mined to advance, whatever might be the consequences. 
Accordingly, at four o'clock the next morning, at the 
head of his small and insignificant force, he commenced 
his daring march toward Paris. He entered the mountain 
defiles of Gap, and took the direct route to Grenoble. 

During the first two days Napoleon marched fifty-four 
mUes. At Digne he printed his proclamations which he 
commenced to distribute along his route. At Grenoble 
he agaia very narrowly escaped destruction. The troops 
which were stationed there were drawn out by their com- 
mander to resist and capture him. Before an opportunity 
however was given for hostilities to commence, Napoleon 
advanced in tront of his own ranks, and addressiag the op- 
posite party exclaimed : " Comrades ! do you not know 
me? Do you not recognize me, my children? I am 
your emperor. Fire on me if you wish, here is my bosom ! " 
At the same moment he bared his breast. The well 
known jjerson and the ' familiar voice of their former 
chieftain proved u-resistible to the excited troops, the 
heroes of many an ensanguined field ; and whole compan 
ies of them rushed toward him with transport ; shouts of 
Vive VEmpereur fiUed the air ; and the entii'e force arrayed 
themselves immediately among his friends and partisans. 
Napoleon then entered Grenoble in triumpli. He pro- 
claimed some decrees of great importance from that citv, 
M* 



298 MAGNITUDE OF THE ENTERPRISE. 

in wMch he announced the downfall of the Bonrhons, and 
his own resumption of the throne. Their burnrag and 
rapid eloquence thrilled every breast in France with emo- 
tion ; and eventually even convulsed many nations of 
Europe with the throes of revolution and warfare. 

While Napoleon was thus advancing toward his capi- 
tal, with the accumulating power and magnitude of an 
Alpine avalanche, the court of the Bourbons, and the 
fiiends of the ancient monarchy, after a few useless efforts 
at resistance, fled in dismay in every direction. At first 
it was thought that some effective show of opposition 
might be made. Nearly all the celebrated marshals of 
Napoleon had accepted high posts under Louis XVIII. 
and their great abilities were immediately put into re- 
quisition. Soult, Massena, Mortier, Oudinot, Augereau, 
Macdonald and Ney, were all engaged in the service of 
the Bourbons, and were appointed to fill important com- 
mands. Ney alone among them however, was enthusiastic 
in his hopes of success against the strange and magic 
power of this ancient commander; and as he left the 
Tuilleries on the 1th of March he exultingly said to the 
king : " Farewell sire ; I will bring back Bonaparte to 
you in an iron cage ! " It was at this moment that the 
news of Napoleon's departure from Elba reached the gay 
crowds which were assembled at Vienna. Had a thim- 
derbolt fi-om heaven suddenly fallen in the midst of the 
ball-room of the imperial palace, it could not have m- 
spired more terror among the numerous and brilhant cir- 
cle then assembled there, than did that unexpected an- 
nctuncement. The sensation which it produced was pro- 
digious. Sovereigns, ministers, soldiers and statesmen of 



NAPOLEON AT LYONS. 299 

every grade and chiracter were overcome with mingled 
amazement and consternation. The cohgress hurriedly- 
concluded its dehberations ; and the assembled monarchs 
with their advisers immediately began to make arrange- 
ments to combat and to conquer this last and desperate 
eifort of the mighty Corsican, to grasp once more the dia- 
dem of France, and the supremacy of Europe. 

On the 1 2th of March N'apoleon reached the important 
city of Lyons, and entered it without opposition. It was 
here that he first came in contact with his veteran com- 
rade in arms. Marshal Ney, the bravest of the brave ; and 
it was here that after considerable deliberation that dis- 
tuiguished hero consummated the unfortunate act of trea- 
son, which has forever sullied the luster of many brU- 
Uant deeds, and covered his name with infamy. Ney 
reached Lyons very soon after Napoleon entered it. He 
came thither for the express purpose of arresting the lat- 
ter ; he left that city the sworn confederate of him whose 
desperate purpose it was once more to disturb the peace 
of a distracted continent, and hurl a legitimate monarch 
from a throne, around which clustered the hajDpiness and 
security of uncounted millions. 

From Lyons to Paris the march of Napoleon resembled 
more the triumphant progress of a great conqueror, than 
the perilous return of a banished outlaw. By the four- 
teenth of March, the growing enthusiasm in favor of the 
bold adventurer had pervaded the whole of France. The 
memory of his many mighty deeds stUl exercised its 
magic spell over the minds of the most excitable of na- 
tions. Though the Corsican had ah-eady cost France 
many mUUons of valuable lives, it was still true that he 



SOO NAPOLEON AT FONTAINBLEAU. 

held the uppermost place m the nation's favor and ad- 
miration. Soon defection spread throughout the whole 
royal army. Wherever detachments were j)laced, and 
wherever fortresses were garrisoned, they successively, 
deserted the standards of the Bourbons, and announced 
their determination to enlist m the service of ISTapoleon. 
By the nineteenth of March the condition of the Bour- 
bons was desperate. AU appeals to the honor and integ- 
rity of the army of Paris were fruitless. A review of 
the Royal and National Guards of the capital was ordered 
on the nineteenth ; and nobody appeared. On that day 
at dinner the king was deserted in the gilded halls of the 
Tuilleries ; and at the midnight which succeeded, the 
weeping monarch, attended by his family alone, silently 
departed from the jDalace of his forefathers and took the 
road to Blauvais. He pursued his rapid journey through 
Abbeville and LiUe to Ghent ; and left the pathway to 
the throne of France open and free to the adventurous 
feet of him before whom so many kmgs in turn had 
trembled. 

At the same hour when Louis XYIII. was leaving 
Paris, Napoleon was entering Fontainbleau. The perils 
and uncertainties of the journey were now over ; and 
Napoleon enjoyed a moment's leisure to contemplate the 
sudden and potentous splendor of his new position. Nor 
Old he attempt to conceal the exulting rapture with which 
he assumed once more the accustomed reins of empire. 
His journey, especially the latter portion of it, was the 
source of infinite pleasure to his ambitious mind j for du- 
ring its progress he received unanswerable proofs that he 
8t.ill remained after so many misfortunes and vicissitudes, 



HIS RECEPTION AT THE TUILLERIES. 30I 

the supreme idol of his beloved France. And as he pro- 
gressed toward the great capital to whose emhellishment 
and splendor in former years he had contributed so much, 
he appeared to become buo^'^ant with an unaccustomed 
glow of rapture and enthusiasm. He seemed to mount cu 
wings of glory to the towering smnniit of that great and 
briUiant throne from which he had so long intimidated 
Europe, and had been the object of the world's mingled 
awe and admiration. 

At nine o'clook on the twentieth of March, I^J"apoleon 
entered the halls of the Tuilleries. A vast crowd of gen- 
erals, officers, statesmen and soldiers, filled the spacious 
apartments, waiting to receive and welcome him. His 
entrance was the signal for general shouts of enthusiasm. 
A brilliant crowd of epaulettes immediately surrounded 
him. They congratulated him with the utmost enthu- 
siasm, and many distinguished ladies of the imperial court 
crowded their fair forms into the j)ress, reached the em- 
peror, and fervently kissed his hands, his cheeks, and even 
his clothes. Such transports of joy had never before been 
seen within the hollow and artificial precincts of a palace, 
A reception more gratifying to the personal vanity of the 
great hero coiild not possibly have been ofiered him. He 
retired that night to sleep with sweeter dreams and with 
brighter reveries of airy and fantastic hope, than his ardent 
imagination had ever before indulged. If ever there was 
an hour which was supremely happy and felicitous 
throughout the tempestuous and chequered life of that 
extraordinary man, it must have been during the first 
night of his abode in the Tuilleries, after his dangerous 
and uncertain journey from Elba. It was happier and 



302 FIRST PROOFS OF TREACHERY. 

more exquisite in its joy, than the hour when he first 
placed the imperial diadem on his aspiring head ; than the 
hour when he first folded the fair and youthful form of 
the blushing daughter of many Caesars ia his arms ; than 
the hour when he first imprinted a father's kiss on the in- 
fant brow of the aj)parent heir of such bright hopes, and 
such a gorgeous destiny as those of the king of Rome ; it 
was happier because his recent humiliation and exile had 
• taught him better to appreciate the splendors of his 
former position, and to estimate more truly its unequalled 
grandeur and felicity. 

The early dawn of the next morning dissolved at once 
this empty and delusive dream. Great as seemed the re- 
joiciag at his return, Napoleon found it almost impossible 
to obtaia competent persons who were wilHng to assume 
the responsibility of holding the reins of ofiice under him. 
This ominous fact proved that of the many able men who 
then surroimded him, none believed in the perpetuity of 
his supremacy. He immediately summoned to his pres- 
ence his most able and trusted advisers. They obeyed; 
but declined to accept the ministries offered them. Cam- 
baceres was offered the ministry of justice ; but he refused 
it. Caulaincourt was offered the portfolio of foreign af- 
fairs ; but he too declined. Caruot was offered that of 
the interior, with the same result. Fouche, the most 
treacherous, unprincipled, and infamous of human be- 
ings, alone was willing to resume his ancient functions of 
minister of police ; but even he resumed them only to 
work the ruin, and to accelerate the downfall, of his mas- 
ter. After very considerable difficulty, and only in con- 
sequence of Napoleon's peremptory commands, the gov- 



EUROPEAN CONSPIRACY AGAINST NAPOLEON. 303 

ernment was distributed into the hands of Davoust, Mole, 
Frochet, Maret, and Caulaincourt. 

And now having made these prehmiaary arrangements, 
Napoleon had a moment of leisure to look around him, to 
ascertain his real position, and to estimate the prodigious 
dangers and difficulties of that position. He sat upon a 
brilliant but a tottering throne ; and a whole continent 
excited with rage and hostility against him were arming 
themselves and summoning their utmost resources to pre- 
cipitate him from his uneasy eminence, and overwhelm 
him with utter ruin. 

On the twenty-fifth of March, 1815, a treaty was con- 
cluded at Vienna between the sovereigns of Russia, Prus- 
sia, Austria, and Great Britain, by which they bound 
themselves to combine their forces against Bonaparte and 
his faction, in order to prevent him from again disturbing 
the peace of Europe. They each agreed to furnish a hun- 
dred and eighty thousand soldiers for the prosecution of 
the war, and if it were necessary to crush the power of 
their general foe, to caU forth their whole military re- 
sources of every description. They also bound them- 
selves by solemn oath never to lay down their arms nor to 
conclude peace until they had accomphshed the complete 
destruction of Napoleon. Within a fortnight after the 
ratification of this treaty, aU the lesser powers of Europe 
had signified their accession to it. The contingent forces 
of the different countries were assessed according to their 
respective ability ; that of Bavaria at sixty thousand men ; 
that of Piedmont at thirty thousand ; that of Hanover at 
twenty-six thousand, and other states at lesser numbers. 

It will thus be perceived that all the powers of Europe 



304 SUM TOTAL OF THEIR ARMIES. 

were now, for tlie first time, arrayed against Napoleon. 
For the first time in the history of the world, a whole 
continent rose up at once in arms, to crush a single man. 
The sum total of the military forces which would now be 
brought to bear against the mighty Corsican, were in- 
deed prodigious, and might have appaUed a heart even as 
heroic and as resolute as his. They amounted very near- 
ly to a million of men. The confederate monarchs re- 
solved to form three great armies. The first composed 
of two hundred and sixty-five thousand men, xmder the 
command of Prince Schwartzenberg, was to assemble on 
the Upper Rhme. The second, numbering a hundred 
and fifty-five thousand men, under the order of Marshal 
Blticher, was to form on the Lower Rhine. The third 
composed of an equal number of men, were to assemble 
in Belgium. The military force then at the command of 
the confederated foes of iN'apoleon, amounted to more 
than the six hundred thousand men, which were to be 
distributed in these three great bodies. There was also 
a Russian reserve of a hundred and sixty-eight thousand, 
under the command of Barclay de Tolly, which was rap- 
idly hastening toward the scene of conflict. These 
swelled the number of veteran soldiers who, within six 
weeks time after ISTapoleon's arrival at the Tuilleries, w^ere 
in motion against him, to very nearly the prodigious mul- 
litude of seven hundred and fifty thousand men.* In 

* The composition of the principal armies of this immense host was as follows: 
I. Army of Upper Ehine, Schwartzenberg, viz. : 

Austrians, 150,000 

Bavarians, 65,000 

Wirtemberg, 25,000 

Baden, 16,000 

Hessians, &c., , 8,000 

264,000 



DESPERATE NATURE OF THE CONFLICT. 305 

fact " Europe," as Mettemich himself declared in the En- 
roj)eau Observer, " has declared war against Bonaparte." 
It was not a smgle power, or even a confederacy of powers ; 
but a whole continent which had arisen in wrath to take 
vengeance on tha,t haughty and asj)irmg head, for many pre- 
vious years of suifering, for the most unparalleled insults 
and aggressions, for the black despair and ignominy which 
he had inflicted on them so long, and with such apparent 
impunity. One of those great decisive crises had now 
arrived, which determine the fate of the whole world for 
ages to come. On the issue of the impending struggle, 
the stability of all the thrones in Euro23e then depended. 
If Napoleon was conquered, they and all their innumera- 
ble interests and institutions would remain. If he 
triumphed, his terrific vengeance would sweep away with 
a fiiry such as he alone could exhibit, every prop to their 
thrones, and they would be completely ruuied and 
obliterated. 

Napoleon nerved himself to meet this last great strug- 
gle, not merely for glory and empire, but even for life and 
honor, with a degree of energy, resolution and uncon- 
querable heroism, such as has never before or since been 
displayed in history. He was opposed and menaced by 
a coahtion such as no other man would have dared to 
confront, or ever did confront. Alexander the Great, 
when he marched to the conquest of Persia, knew tlaat 

II. Army of Lower Rhine, Bluchei', Prussians, 

Saxons, &c., . .■ 155,000 

III. Army of Flanders — British, Belgians, Hano- 

verans, Bruuswickers 155,000 

IV. Russian Reserve, Barclay de Tolly, 16S.000 

748,000 
—See Plotho, iv., Appendix, p. G2; and Capefigue, i., 380. 331, 

20 



306 NAPOLEON'S HEROIC SPIRIT. 

the vast hordes of Darius were imbecile, luxurious and 
timid. Csesar never met so mighty a host, or faced, so 
powei-fal a foe on the plains of Gaul. We will search iu 
vain in all the annals of ancient or modern heroism for a 
parallel to this last prodigious struggle of Napoleon to 
repel the armed and. veteran multitudes who, under the 
command of the most ahle generals, came swelling up to- 
ward France from every quarter of Europe, like the 
mighty tide of a shoreless ocean, to overwhelm hko, and 
consign him to obhvion. His heroism then became the 
heroism of desperation ; such heroism as induces men to 
put forth unequalled efforts in the last extremity ; the he- 
roism which leads warriors to advance to certaia glory 
and death in the forlorn hope ; the heroism which supe- 
rior spu'its alone display when, immediately before they 
leave the world, they expend aU their energies in one 
final, convulsive, dying throe. The campaign of I^Tapo- 
leon during the hundi'ed days stands forth, unfortunate as 
was its termination to him, preeminent above aU other 
epochs of military history, and resplendant with un- 
equalled glory and renown. 

At that moment the arsenals and fortresses of France 
were nearly empty in consequence of the immense ex- 
haustion which had taken place dm-ing the preceeding 
years. By the recent treaty at Paris twelve thousand 
pieces of cannon distributed in fifty-thi'ee fortresses, had 
been ceded to the enemies of France. Yet the genius of 
jSTapoleon in this great crisis rose triumphant above every 
obstacle, and nobly asserted its ancient supremacy. He 
at once began the reorganization and enlargement of the 
army. The eagles of the old regiments which had been 



HIS IMMENSE ACTIVITY. 307 

taken from them by Louis XVIII. were restored ; and 
with them came back the martial spirit and love for Na- 
poleon, which had so often led those veterans to victory 
and to glory. Three additional battalions were ordered 
for each regiment. Napoleon invited all the retired vet- 
erans of the empire once more to come forward, and join 
the standards and the fortunes of their ancient leader. 
Two additional squadrons were ordered to each regi- 
ment of cavalry. Tliirty new battalions of artillery were 
raised from the sailors in the fleets in Cherbourg, Brest, 
and Toulon. Forty battalions in twenty regiments were 
added to the Young Guard. Two hundred battalions of 
the National Guards were organized from old and new 
recruits. AU France felt the electric shock communicated 
by the energy, desperation and enthusiasm of the great 
conqueror. By these prodigious exertions Napoleon 
hoped that by the first of September he would have five 
hundred battalions of troops of the line, and fifty-two of 
the guards, numbering all together about six hundred 
thousand men. 

It was still more difiicult to feed, clothe, and arm so 
great a multitude in so short a time, than it was to obtain 
their enlistment. But even this task was not too great 
for the unconquerable energy of Nai3oleon. He imme- 
diately doubled the number of workmen in aU the manu- 
factories of arms throughout the country. He thus ob- 
tained twenty thousand muskets per month. The old 
"bruised arms" were evei'y where caUed into requisition; 
they were repaired, burnished up, and made fit for use. 
Additional workmen were employed, and the foundries 
were everywhere put in active operation for the manufac- 



308 NEW CONSTITUTION PROCLAIMED. 

ture of artilleiy. Innumerable horses were purchased 
throughout the whole of France. Even draught horses 
were bought from the wagons of the farmers to draw the 
guns. The arming of the troops and the equipment of 
the cannon progressed with extraordinary rapidity. The 
activity and energy of Napoleon were prodigious. By 
the beginnmg of June, 1815, two hundred and twenty 
thousand men were fully armed and equipped. Many of 
these were the old retired veterans of the empii'e, the 
heroes of Borodino, Jena, and Austerhtz, who had joy- 
fully responded to the call of their illustrious leader, to 
step forward to his aid in this the hour of his greatest ne- 
cessity. For all these vast and expensive preparations, 
payment was made with what ready money the treasury 
then contained, and with orders on the treasury, redeema- 
ole at a future and sometimes a distant period. 

Another measure and one more pacific in its nature, it 
became Napoleon at that crisis to take, in order to secure 
the full and enthusiastic confidence of the nation. This 
was the formation and proclamation of a constitution 
adapted to the then existing state of pubhc feeling, and 
his own altered and uncertain fortunes. There was then 
a strong liberal party in the French chambers, the relics 
of the old Jacobin faction of the revolution, at the head 
of whom stood Fouche and Carnot ; who pretended to 
insist on a democratic empire or sovereignty, with Napo- 
leon at its head. These must be appeased as well as the 
other conflicting parties in the state. At length after 
considerable discussion a constitution was agreed upon, 
of which the prominent provisions were these. First, the 
peerage was declared to be hereditary, thus reviving in 



ITS PUBLIC RATIFICATION. 309 

Bubstance the old feudal nobility. Second, the confisca- 
tion of property for political offences was abolished, ex- 
cept for high treason. Third, the family of the Bourbons 
was forever banished from the soil of France. 

After the provisions of this constitution had been agreed 
on between the emperor and the chambers, the ratifica- 
tion of it by the nation was deemed necessary. To give 
eclat and effect to the ceremony, it was resolved that the 
ratification should take place on the Champ de Mai at 
Paris, with extraordinary pomp ; and that the splendor of 
the occasion and of its incidents should be such as to im- 
press the nation and the world with the great enthusiasm 
which was still entertained for the emperor, and of the 
interest still taken in his fortunes. 

Accordingly, for a month previous to the appointed 
day many thousands of workmen were employed in the 
necessary preparations. Vast ranges of benches rising io 
the form of a circular ampitheater, were constructed, 
capable of accommodating two hundred thousand persons. 
Preparations were also made for canducting the religious 
ceremonies, and the political canvass, with the most gorg- 
eous magnificence. When the appointed day arrived the 
sun rose brightly in the serene heavens, and all nature 
seemed to assume her most smiling and propitious garb. 
An innumerable multitude crowded the benches, and pre- 
sented a spectacle similar to that which the mighty Col- 
iseum at Rome might have displayed, when, in the days of 
her imperial splendor the inhabitants of the mistress of 
the world assembled there to witness the performances 
of Nero on the violin, the deadly combat of trained glad- 
iators, or tl e destruction of Christian martyrs by savage, 



310 SPLENDORS OF THE OCCASION. 

wild beasts. The religious ceremony commenced the 
proceedings. One cardinal, two archbishops, and four 
bishops took part in the celebration of high mass. Such 
music as had never before been heard in Paris, save un- 
der the lofty vaults of Notre Dame, revei-berated through 
the open heavens, and was wafted afar on the fi-ee winds. 
Napoleon surrounded by his chamberlains, his pages, his 
marshals and generals, attended by brilliant staffs and 
i-etinues and all the pomp and splendor of the old empire, 
assisted at the ceremonies. Thirty thousand of the Na- 
tional Guards added by their presence to the military 
grandeur of the imposing scene. Four thousand electors 
chosen by all the electoral colleges of France, cast their 
ballots for the new constitution which had been announced. 
They represented the votes of the fifteen hundred thou- 
sand citizens who had thus instructed them, in opposition 
to five thousand who had given their voices against the 
proposed constitution, throughout the whole nation. It 
was on this memorable occasion that Napoleon concluded 
the august ceremonies with these words: "Emperor, 
consul, soldier, I owe everything to the people. In pros- 
perity and adversity, in the field of battle, in council, on 
the throne, in exile, France has even been the only object 
of my thoughts and actions." The emperor continued 
for some time to address the vast multitude with an elo- 
quence whose ruggid grandeur and strength rivalled even 
that of Demosthenes himself; and then closed the impos- 
ing pageant with the declaration that " his prosperity, 
his honor, his glory, could by no possibiUty be any other 
than the honor, the prosperity and the glory of France ; " 
a declaration which, false as it was, ehcited the loud and 



NAPOLEON JOINS HIS ARMY. 311 

long plaudits of that innumeralble and enthusiastic mul 
titude. 

But more anxious and pressmg cares demanded the im- 
mediate attention of Napoleon, than that of ministering 
to the vanity and folly of Frenchmen, All Europe was 
hastening to descend like an avalanche iipon the soil of 
France, and to overwhelm the throne and empire of !N"a- 
poleon in one general and eternal ruin. For this great 
peril the last and deadliest which even the Corsican had 
ever been called to confront, he now prepared himself; 
and as the crisis approached nearer and nearer, his efforts 
oecame more desperate and herculean. 

On the seventh of June, he left Paris to join his army. 
Previous to his departure he appointed a provisional gov- 
ernment, at the head of whom were placed his brothers 
Joseph and Lucien, Cambaceres, Davoust, Fouche, Car- 
not, and Caulaincourt. He had fortified Paris so com- 
pletely as almost to render it impregnable. Intrench- 
ments had been erected to the west of Montmartre, in 
one direction as far as Clinchy and in the other to Cha- 
venton, in which seven hundred pieces of cannon were 
mounted. The prodigious energy and animation of Na- 
poleon had filled the whole nation with enthusiasm, and 
already manned those numerous works with able and ex- 
perienced gunners. It was Napoleon's intention to oper- 
ate principally with the main body of his troops, com- 
posed of a hundred and twenty-five thousand men, with 
three hundred and fifty pieces of artillery which were 
marching under his orders, toward Belgium, Other 
grand divisions of the army under Souchet and Rapp, 
were posted m La Vendee, Marseilles and Bordeaux, to 



312 HIS ADDRESS TO THE TROOPS. 

overawe the royalists. The fate of Europe depended 
solely on the great central army under the command of 
Napoleon himself. 

On the 13th of June, the great Corsican joined his 
camp for the last time. It wa,s situated then at Aresnes, 
between the Sambre and PhilijDville, and the returns 
which were immediately brought him, reported one hun- 
dred and twenty-two thousand men then actually present 
under arms. The arrival of Napoleon filled this vast 
armament with the utmost enthusiasm; which was in 
creased, if possible, by the proclamation which he issued 
to his troops. Said he : " Soldiers ! this is the anniver- 
sary of Marengo and Friedland, of Austerlitz and Wag- 
ram. If our enemies dare to enter France they will find 
in it their tomb. Soldiers ! we have forced marches to 
make, battles to fight, perils to encomiter. But with con- 
stancy, the victory wiU be ours. For every Frenchman 
who has a heart within him, now is the time to conquer 
or to die ! " Once more, and for the last time, the en- 
thusiastic courage, the haughty and confident resolution 
to triumph, which had characterized the veteran armies, 
both of the empire, and the consulate, and had rendered 
them the most formidable warriors that ever marched to 
battle and to victory ; that calm yet heroic spirit was again 
displayed and felt by those who were now about to con- 
tend in mortal conflict for the future supremacy of Eu- 
i-ope, under the most able and illustrious of generals. 
But it was for the last time ; and never more was that 
same spirit destined to pervade a great army, or to cheer 
a mighty general on to certain triumph. 

On the 15th of Jime, the Prussian army under Blucher 



THE COMBATANTS APPKOACH EACH OTPIER. 313 

retired on the approach of the French from Charleroi to 
Fleurus. It was now the chief purpose of Napoleon ef- 
fectively to separate the British and Prussian forces, and 
to attack and vanquish them in detail. He sent Mar- 
shal Ney, with a detachment of forty-six thousand men 
to Quartre-Bi-as, situated on the road to Brussels. At 
the same time Napoleon marched with seventy-two thou- 
sand men toward Fleurus, for the purpose of falling on 
the Prussians. Blticher retreated from Fleurus to Ligny ; 
and at Ligny the Prussians and French heroes engaged 
in the first of the three great battles which marked the 
memorable era of the hundred days. 

The position taken by Blticher at Ligny was strong 
and well chosen. Villages in front of him afforded ex- 
cellent shelter to his troops, while his artillery, arranged 
on the summit of a vast semi-cii'cular hill, swept the 
whole line of the French. At that moment eighty thou- 
sand men, among whom were twelve thousand cavalry, 
marched under the black eagles of Prussia. The large 
detachment sent under Ney to check the English had 
weakened Napoleon considerably, and his troops then 
numbered but seventy-two thousand. The duke of Wel- 
lington, deceived by false intelligence which he had re- 
ceived from the traitor Fouche — a traitor to Bonaj^arte, 
and to WeUington, both to his country and to his coun- 
try's foes — was quite unconscious, even vmtil the morn- 
mg of the 15th of June, that the French army was so 
near, or that the great struggle impended so soon. Wel- 
lington was then at Brussels. Having given orders that 
all the British troops should immediately assemble at 

Quarti-e-Bras, he gaily dressed himself and attended a ])al] 

N 



S14 THE BALL AT BRUSSELS. 

at the palace of the Duchess of Richmond, The assem- 
blage was brilliant in the extreme. The beauty, chivalry, 
and fashion of Belgium had congregated in those stately 
halls ; while the fnost distinguished soldiers and gener- 
als of the British and allied armies graced the scene with 
their courtly presence. That company of fair women and 
brave men presented a singular spectacle. The license 
of continental manners, the stirring excitement of the 
tremendous crisis which tlien existed, the uncertainty of 
the future, all gave unusual romance to the occasion. 
Bm-ning words of love and affection were uttered then, 
which were the more ardent and intense because the im- 
pending probabilities of the future rendered their realiza- 
tion so insecure. Many attachments had been formed 
between the young British officers who had been sta- 
tioned for some months in Belgium, and the blooming 
beauties of that land of gorgeous tulips ; and now the 
period had arrived when these proffered contracts of xm- 
realized felicity were soon either to be forever broken by 
death, or to be happily consummated. Sweet, volup- 
tuous music floated on the midnight air ; and many grace- 
ful forms then moved in harmony with bewitching melo- 
dies, which were destined never again to be heard by them! 

"Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 
And all went meiTy as a marriage bell." 

That brilliant and chivalrous company were uncon- 
sciously treading on a sleeping volcano. A sudden sound 
was heard which struck terror into every heart and 
blanched the rosiest cheek. It was the distant booming 
of the cannon which proclaimed the unexpected approach 



THE BATTLE OF LIGNY. 315 

of the French, and the commencement of the great con 
flict. The lion whom all Europe dreaded, with one pro- 
digious bound had suddenly leaped among the gay and 
unsuspecting crowd, spreading the utmost terror and dis- 
may. How truly says the matchless poet : 

"Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
■ Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness : 
And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
Which ne'er might be repeated ; who could giiess 
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes. 
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ? 

"And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. 
Went jjouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ; 
And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb. 
Or whispering, with white lips — 'The foe! They come I they 



The battle of Ligny began by a furious attack of Na- 
poleon on the Prussian right, which was soon driven 
back with immense slaughter. Blticher quickly sent 
large detachments to the aid of the assailed point, and 
thereby sensibly weakened his center. This was pre- 
cisely what Napoleon had desii'ed and anticipated. He 
commanded his own center, thirty thousand strong, to 
cross the streamlet of Ligny, and attack the Prussians. 

* Childe Harold. Canto III., xxiv, xxv. 



316 DOUBTFUL NATURE OF THE CONFLICT. 

Then the conflict became bloody and forious beyond de- 
scription, and prodigious exertions were made on both 
sides. Three times the impetuous assaults of the French 
took the village of Ligny from the Prussians ; and three 
times were they driven back again by the desperate ex- 
ertions of the assailed. The Prussians returned to the 
charge 'igain aid again. The combatants fought fiercely 
hand to hand. Two hundred pieces of artillery thun- 
dered into the opposing masses. The houses and streets 
of the village were filled with multitudes of the dying and 
the dead ; and yet by seven o'clock, after three hours' 
conflict, the battle remained undecided and one half of 
the position continued in the possession of the Prussians, 
and the other half in the possession of the French. 

The final issue of the combat would have been doubt- 
ful ; but at that moment a large detachment from the 
army of Ney arrived on the field and rendered efiectual 
assistance to Napoleon. He then immediately ordered 
his old guard to advance to the attack. At the same mo- 
ment all his artillery were arrayed in the front line. The 
dense columns of the imj)erial guard moved forward with 
steady tread ; and in concert with the artillery commenced 
a charge of prodigious fury uj)on the opposing masses. 
Twenty squadrons of cuirassiers, under the command of 
D'Erlon, also followed up the attack. The Prussian cen- 
ter after a short resistance v/as completely crushed under 
the tremendous weight and fury of this great onslaught ; 
and commenced to waver, to fall back, and eventually to 
retreat. Marshal Blticher fought to the last with the fury 
of a lion. During the retreat he repeatedly charged the 
pursuing French. But his horse was shot under him ; he 



LAST VICTORY OF NAPOLEOK 317 

fffl, and both the Prussian and French cavalry passed 
over the prostrate body of the marshal, while he lay on 
the ground entangled beneath his dying horse. The vic- 
tory, of ISTapoleon was at length complete. His loss was 
six thousand eight hundred men. That of the Prussians 
was fifteen thousand men and twenty-one pieces of 
artillery. 

It is worthy of remark that -the battle of Ligny was the 
last in which the aspiring eagles of N^apoleon were triumph- 
ant. This was the last victory which lie was destined 
ever to achieve, whose exploits in many lands^ for so 
many years, had elicited such intense admiration through 
out the whole world. On that day the inconstant god 
dess forever deserted the standards of him whom man 
kind had once not unaptly termed the favorite child of 
victory. 

While Napoleon was combatting the Prussians at 
Ligny, Marshal ISTey was assaihng the English army at 
Quartre-Bras. The French numbered forty-six thousand 
men, with a himdred and sixteen cannon. Only the half 
of this force however was engaged at Quartre-Bras, in 
consequence of the immense detachment sent by Ney, un- 
der General D'Erlon to the aid of Napoleon at Ligny. 
At the beginning of the conflict the Belgian troops were 
completely overthrown. But the divisions of Picton and 
the Duke of Brunswick arrived at that critical moment ; 
and the conflict than began in earnest. There were about 
twenty thousand men engaged on each side. The French 
cuirassiers charged upon the Enghsh infantry with the 
utmost ferocity. The artillery of the French ploughed 
through and through the dense squares into which the 



318 THE BATTLE OF QUARTRE-BRAS. 

English had been formed. But the steadiness and hero- 
ism of the latter remained unshaken ; and thus the issue 
seemed again doubtful between such desperate fortitude 
on both sides, when the arrival of Welhngton on the field 
with a reinforcement of ten thousand men, at once changed 
the aspect of affairs. The battle was still continued with 
increased fury, but the repeated and desperate charges 
of the French were as often effectively repulsed, and with 
immense losses. The day waned and night approached. 
In vain Marshal Ney put forth his utmost exertions. The 
greater numbers, the steadiness, and the resolution of the 
aUies, were too much even for the "bravest of the brave." 
When night fell the battle ceased. The allies were tri- 
umphant, and the exhavisted troops of the French mar- 
shal retired to Frasnes, a mile fi-om the field of battle. 
The alHes slept that night upon the ensanguined plain, 
and their victory was complete. The French lost four 
thousand men, the allies lost five thousand ; but this un- 
usual dis23roportion between the conquerors and the con- 
quered resulted from the immense number of French 
artillery. 

All these minor engagements were only preparatory to 
the greater conflict which was to occur, and which was to 
be decisive and final in its effects. During the 17th of 
June the English and French armies were busily converg- 
ing toward the memorable plain of Waterloo. The day 
was wet. The water fell in torrents, and the roads were 
almost impassable. Shivering and dripj^ing with the rain 
those vast multitudes silently took up their appointed 
positions on the field of battle ; and at night they laid 
down to rest in deep mud and large pools of water. 



IMPORTANCE OF THE CRISIS. 319 

Few even of the bravest slept during the solemn nonra 
of that night. The awtul grandeur and importance of 
the event which was to ensue on the succeeding day im- 
pressed even the most thoughtless. To that spot then 
were directed the hopes and fears of the whole of Europe. 
Never before, since the beginning of time, had men con- 
tended for stakes of such prodigious magnitude. Upon the 
uncertain issue of the coming battle depended the fate of 
that mighty hero whose achievements had far transcended 
the achievements of all other men. A conflict was about 
to be fought more decisive and important than that of 
Marathon, of Pharsalia, of Cannae, or of Blenheim. The 
destiny of a greater conqueror than either Miltiades, 
Caesar, Hannibal, or Marlborough, then hung trembling in 
the doubtful balance. And now for the first time, the 
two ablest generals of that age were about to measure 
their swords together, and the future fate of each entirely 
depended on the issue. If the British were defeated, re- 
treat even from the battle-field would be impossible. The 
dense forest of Soignies in their rear would cut off every 
possibUity of escape. If Napoleon was vanquished, his 
fortunes were ruined forever, and he would become 
thenceforth either a captive or a fugitive on the earth. 
And those who were about to engage in this great strug- 
gle were fuUy conscious of the supreme importance of 
the occasion. 

At length the heavy hours of night wore away. The 
busy sounds of hurried preparation, the confused and 
multitudinous hum which betokened the near presence 
af mighty armaments, and which had echoed from both 
camps during the night, gradually ceased. The morning 



320 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 

of the eighteenth of June, 1815, dawned npon the world, 
and with the light there came that hour pregnant with 
the fate of so many millions of human beings ; the hour 
to which the events of preceding centuries had long- 
converged ; the hour to which many ages yet to come 
will point as the great decisive epoch which moulded the 
fate of a continent, and even of mankind. The last grand 
act ill the stupendous drama of Napoleon's career was 
now about to commence, ere the curtain fell upon it 
forever. 

When the day dawned a hundred and seventy-five thou- 
sand men sprang from their dripping beds, and arrayed 
themselves for the last time for the shock and the carnage 
of battle. Soon the various regiments of both armies be- 
gan to dej)loy into their assigned positions. The battle- 
field extended two mUes in length from the chateau of 
Hugoumont on the extreme right, to that of La Haye 
Sainte on the left. Through the center of this line the 
great high road or chaussee from Brussels to Charleroi 
passed, nearly a mile from the village of Waterloo. Both 
armies were arrayed on the crest of gentle eminences 
somewhat semi-circular in form, and parallel to each other, 
between which a natural slope or glacis intervened. The 
two armies presented a magnificent appearance. The 
French nmnbered eighty thousand, the English and Bel- 
gians seventy-two thousand. Like huge serpents the 
long, dark masses wound around the eminences to the 
thrilUng sound of martial music, and gradually formed 
iito line. NajDoleon had two hundred and fifty cannon • 
the English a hundred and fifty-six. The French troops 
were formed in three lines, each flanked by dense massee 



ITS COMMENCEMENT. 321 

of cavalry. Their brilliant uniforms and dazzling arms 
presented a gorgeous and imposing spectacle. The Eng- 
lish troojDS were drawn up for the most part in solid 
squares, supported by cavalry in the rear. In front of 
their whole position their artillery were skilfully arrayed, 
directly facing the formidable number of guns displayed 
by the French. Appearances were certainly in favor of 
Napoleon before the battle began, both as to the number, 
the equipment, and the arrangement of his troops. On 
that great day, each of the opposing commanders had ex- 
erted his utmost skill, and had exhausted the whole mili- 
tary art, in the disposition of their respective armies, so as 
to increase their effectiveness to the fullest degree. 

Just as the village clock at Nivelles struck eleven, Na- 
poleon gave the order to commence the combat from the 
center of his lines. The column of Jerome, six thousand 
strong, first attacked the English posted in the chateau 
of Hugoumont. A vigorous contest here took place 
which resulted in the dislodgment of the English troops, 
and the conflagration of the edifice. This conflict how- 
ever was only intended by Napoleon to conceal the mam 
point of attack, which was in the right center. The can- 
nonade had noAv become general along the whole line. 
Ney was ordered to attack the British stationed along 
the hedge, and in the chateau of La Haye Sainte. This 
was the strongest position held by Wellington. As soon 
as jthe latter perceived the large masses of troops which 
were marching against this portion of his line, he drew up 
the splendid and powerful regiment of the Scotch Greys, 
the Enniskillers, and the Queen's Bays in its support. 

The French columns steadily pressed up the slope till 
N* 21 



322 INCIDENTS OF THE CONFLICT. 

within twenty yards of the British guns. Here a furious 
conflict; ensued. The heroic Picton fell at the head of 
his regiment as he waved forward his troops with his 
Bword. The Scotch Greys attacked their foes with pro- 
digious energy and effect. The French columns then 
wavered. The Scotch, shouting " Scotland forever," 
rushed on to the attack. They carried a battery of 
twenty guns ; charged the second line ; routed it ; and 
assailed the third. The third line of the French even be- 
gan to yield, when Napoleon, perceiving the greatness of 
the disaster, ordered Milhaud's cuirassiers to charge the 
advancing foe. In this collision the brave Ponsonby died 
a heroic death; and so desperate was the conflict that the 
returning Scotch brought back with them scarcely a fifth 
part of their original number. As Napoleon gazed from 
the eminence on which he stood while he surveyed the battle, 
at the splendid and effective charge of the brave Scotch 
cavalry he exclaimed : Ces terrihles chevaux gris y comme 
Us travaillent ! But before the Scotch had completed 
their charge, they had broken and dispersed a column of 
five thousand men ; had taken two thousand prisoners ; 
and had either captured or spiked eighty pieces of can- 
non, which comprised the whole of Ney's artillery. 

Undismayed by this disaster Napoleon ordered twenty 
thousand cuii'assiers, under the command of Milhaud, to 
advance to the support of Ney in the center. Soon La 
Ilaye Sainte was taken. An entire battalion of Hano- 
verian troops was almost destroyed by the French, but 
their tide of conquest was terminated by Wellington or- 
dering up the Life Guards, the Royal Horse Guards, and 
the 1st Dragoon Guards to the defense. The advance of 



DESPERATE HEROISM OF THE COMBATANTS. 323 

the French was then stopped ; but Napoleon being de 
termined to carry the important post of La Haye Sainte, 
brought up his whole body of hght cavalry to the attack. 
Wellington still resisted these furious and repeated on- 
slaughts on his lines, by ordering up to their support his 
whole reserve, and the Belgian regiments wliich were 
stationed in the rear. 

Thus for three hours the uncertain conflict raged 
throughout the whole length of the contending lines, with 
the most desj)erate fury. Prodigious acts of heroism wer( 
performed by many whose names have long since de- 
scended with them to their gory and forgotten graves, 
on that ensanguined field. The dead and dying lay jailed 
in immense heaps, and the whole of the contending ar- 
mies were involved in the dense smoke and the thunder- 
ing uj)roar of battle. Neither appeared willing to yield. 
Both seemed determined to conquer or to perish. As 
evening approached Napoleon saw the necessity of com- 
bining his energies, and by one prodigious effort to carry 
the day. All along the Hne, two mUes in length, the con-, 
flict raged with terrific fury ; but it was now destined tc 
become more furious, more deadly, more destructive still. 
Suddenly at half past four o'clock, a dark mass appeared 
in the distance, moving in the direction of Frischermont. 
]t was a Prussian corps, sixteen thousand strong, who 
were hastening toward the scene of conflict. Napoleon 
immediately detached Lobun with seven thousand men to 
arrest their progress ; while he himself determined, at that 
critical moment to put into execution his last and great- 
est resource, the one which had rarely failed to- win the 
victory to his standards, and to crush the most powerful, 



324 THE CHARGE OF THE OLD GUARD. 

enthusiastic, and formidable foes. This was to bring for 
ward the grand attack of the Old Imperial Guard. It 
was this veteran corps which had decided the fate of 
Europe on many great battle fields. It was this corps 
which had made the best troops of Austria quail and flee 
at Friedland and Wagram ; which had broken the power 
of the Prussian columns at Jena and Lutzen ; which had 
overwhelmed the Russian Hues at Borodino and Auster- 
litz. Napoleon himself now rode through the ranks of 
these grim and daimtless warriors, and harangued them 
with a few words of burning eloquence. He briefly told 
them that the fate of the day, his own fate, and the fate 
of France and Europe now depended upon themselves. 
Loud shouts of Vive PEmpereur in reply echoed far and 
wide over the plain, and drowned for a moment, even the 
mighty thunder of the cannon. Napoleon accompanied his 
veteran heroes a considerable way down the slope on their 
advance ; and as each column defiled before him, he 
addressed them words of stirrmg eulogy and hope, 
which revived or increased their courage. They advanced 
to the final attack of the British center in two great mas- 
ses, one of which was led by Marshal Ney, the other by 
General Reille. 

Never before, in the memorable annals of warfare, had 
there been such a shock as that which took place when 
the Old Guards, having approached with solemn and steady 
tread within forty feet of the English fines, commenced 
svith theii" ancient heroism and resolution the task of van- 
quishing their desperate and powerful foes. The very 
earth shook beneath that terrific shock. They were met 
by the Engfish Foot Guards, and the 73d and 30th regi- 



THE IMPERIAL GUARD RECOIL. 325 

ments, with a heroism equal to their own. The eyes of 
all the combatants wei-e turned toward the spot where 
that deadly conflict was taking place. Quickly and with 
desperate energy all the most destructive erolutions of 
warfare were executed. The combatants seemed deter- 
mined each to conquer or to perish. Immortal deeds 
were then achieved, which find no superior in all the blood- 
stained annals of military glory and ambition. But Wel- 
lington had made admirable dispositions to meet this last 
grand attack of the Old Guard, which had also been an- 
ticipated. He had stationed his artillery so as completely 
to sweep their lines ; and as they approached near to his 
position, his batteries were unmasked, and they pom-ed 
into the advancing host a prodigious storm of iron hail. 
The first Imes of the Imperial Guards melted like frosts 
work as they came within range of the terrible guns ; and 
though those in the rear resolutely pressed on to the at- 
tack, they made no further advance. They still crumbled 
away. A dead mass of soldiers rose higher and higher 
above the earth ; but the liead of the living column was 
unable to approach nearer than before, to the object of 
their attack. 

At length the Imperial Guard recoiled. Napoleon who 
had intently watched their progress, turned deadly pale, 
when he witnessed their useless heroism and their slow 
and ignominious retreat. Soon the horrid cry was re- 
peated along the French lines : " Tout est pardue^ la 
Gruarde recuile!'''' and the enormous mass, broken and in 
confusion, fled m headlong retreat down the hill. 

At this mstant the rest of the Prussian army under 
Blticher and Ziethen came within range of the field, and 



326 ARRIVAL OF BLUCHER. 

opened a ba,ttery of a hundred guns upon the tumultu- 
ous masses of the French. It was now nearly eight 
o'clock. Soon the Prussians, thirty-sis thousand in num- 
ber, reached the French Imes, and commenced a furious 
attack upon the exhausted and disordered multitudes. 
At that moment the star of Napoleon's glory, after hav- 
ing for twenty years shone in unequaled splendor near 
the very zenith, trembled, flickered, and then descended 
in ominous gloom, never to rise again. In vain the des- 
perate and ruined adventurer strove to rally his discom- 
fited warriors. In vain he swept on his noble charger 
over the plain, recalling his faltering troops to return 
once more to the attack. Terror now pervaded every 
breast. The retreat became general; and though Na- 
poleon exjDosed himself in the most dangerous positions, 
and seemed even to seek for dehth, in restoring courage 
and order, all were in vain ; and the ruin of his army, his 
fortunes, and his hopes, was complete and irremediable. 
At last exclaiming : " All is lost ! let us save ourselves ! " 
he turned his horse and fled from the field of battle. The 
Prussians pursued the helpless fugitives with a rancor 
which only the memory of the horrors of the battle of 
Jena, and the unequaled outrages then committed by 
Napoleon on Prussia, could have excited. Multitudes 
of the retreating French were slain. The whole of Na- 
poleon's artillery fell into the hands of the pursuers. For 
miles the earth was completely covered with an innumer- 
able number of broken carriages, wagons, baggage, arms 
and wi'ecks of. every kind. Forty thousand men only es- 
caped out of that vast and splendid armament of seventy- 
two thousand, who on the morning of that very day, full 



TOTAL DEFEAT OF NAPOLEON. 327 

of martial pomp and pride, had marched under the French 
eagles. Nearly forty thousand had either fallen on the 
battle-field, were wounded, or were taken prisoners. 
The loss of the allies was sixteen thousand killed and 
wounded. The loss of the Prussians in the battles on the 
16th and 18th of June, amounted to thirty-three thousand. 

Thus ended in complete discomfiture aU the prodigious 
vifforts of Napoleon, after his return from Elba, to regain 
his lost throne, and retrieve his fallen fortunes. He had 
exhausted the whole of France in making these prepara- 
tions, and now his case was hopeless. If previous to the 
battle of Waterloo, his heroism had been the heroism of 
desperation, mingled with hope ; it became now the hero- 
ism, if indeed it existed at all, of black and unmitigated 
despair. It remained to be seen whether, after such great 
reverses, the resolution even of Napoleon could undertake 
any other expedients to preserve his power, his freedom, 
or even his existence. 

The presence of Marshal Blticher at Waterloo, and the 
absence of Marshal Grouchy, were the decisive causes of 
the issue of that eventful day ; and the French marshal 
has been severely censured because of his supposed 
treachery or dereliction of duty. But these censures are 
Av^hoUy unjust. In accordance with Napoleon's own express 
orders, Grouchy went in pursuit of the Prussian corps un- 
der Theilman at Wavres; and although Grouchy dis- 
tmctly heard the cannonading at Waterloo from Lis own 
position, yet he did not dare to deviate in the least from 
the instructions which he had received from Napoleon 
himself. Even on the morning of the 18th Grouchy re- 
ceived a despatch from Soult ordering him still to con- 



328 NAPOLEON'S RETURN TO PARIS. 

tinuo tlie pursuit ; and this fact is clearly indicative of the 
confidence then entertained by. Napoleon as to the certain 
issue of the impending conflict. Hence the exulting ex- 
clamatio*n of Napoleon himself on the morning of the bat- 
tle of Waterloo, when he beheld the dense columns of 
the English throAvn into squares, and posted in admirable 
array on those heights which were so soon to be dyed 
in blood and covered with mountains of the wounded and 
the slain — " I have these English before me at last. Nine 
chances out of ten are in our favor ! " When too late, 
Napoleon discovered his error, and the fallacy of his cal- 
culations. Then would he have given millions to have 
recalled his absent legions, and thus decide a moment so 
pregnant with his unalterable fate. But Grouchy waa 
too far distant either to be reached by a messenger, or to 
be able to comply before the fate of the day had been 
determined. 

Napoleon was the first to arrive at Paris, and to con- 
vey thither the unwelcome news of his terrific disaster. 
It was soon ascertained throughout France that he had 
staked his destiny upon the issue of Waterloo ; and that 
he had lost. At four o'clock on the 21st, Napoleon sadly 
entered the palace of the Elyssee-Bourbons ; and his first 
measure was to propose that the chambers should declare 
him dictator, as the only means of saving France from 
impending ruin. But this measure was strongly opposed 
by Fouche, Lafayette, Dupin, and the leaders of the popu- 
lar party in that assemblage. The chambers declared its 
sittings permanent. The prevalent feeling was that, in- 
stead of proclaimmg Napoleon dictator, he should be re- 
quested, and even required, to abdicate, as the only pos 



OPPOSITION TO HIM IN THE ASSEMBLY. 329 

sible means of preserving the country. With great truth 
Lafayette declared in the assembly that, " for more than 
ten years three milhons of Frenchmen have perished for 
a man who wishes still to struggle against all Euroj)e. 
We have done more than enough for him. It is now 
our duty to preserve our country ! " In truth ISTapoleon 
had for many years been the real curse not only of Eu- 
rope but even of France. It is true, he had rendered her 
name illustrious and preeminent in the annals of warfare. 
It is true, he had conducted her triumphant eagles into 
almost every ca^^ital in Europe. It is true, he had filled 
the French capital with the most rare and precious works 
of ai-t, plundered from every gallery on the continent. It 
is true, he had made Paris the center of refinement, luxu- 
ry, and civilization. But these were all hollow and worth- 
less advantages, when compared with the infinite evils 
which he had inflicted upon his country in return. He 
had exhausted her finances in supporting his vast projects 
of ambition. Millions of her bravest and best children 
had perished on the battle-field in defense of his cause ; 
and their bones were then bleaching in almost every dis- 
tant chme, in the parched and desert sands of Africa, on 
the shady banks of the Tagus and the Gaudalquiver, 
amid the mighty abysmal gorges of the Alps, and on the 
frozen stepj^es of Russia. He had kept France for many 
years in a continual state of restlessness, exhaustion, and 
revolution, totally incompatible with all real and perma- 
nent national prosperity. Nor can we blame the leading 
statesmeri of France that, after the battle and the defeat 
of Waterloo, they eagerly embraced the opportunity 
given them to humble and to crush the insatiable and de- 



S30 MOVEMENTS OF THE ALLIES. 

struct! ve ambition of that desperate adventurer, who had 
been the messenger of ruin to so many millions of his fel- 
low creatm-es ; who had carried desolation and misery to 
so many nations ; who had even convulsed a whole con 
tinent by the prodigious throes of the most grasping and 
inordinafe ambition which ever influenced the breast 
of any human being. 

As soon as the wishes of the chambers were communi- 
cated to Napoleon, he became extremely enraged. "De- 
throne me ! " said he, " they would not dare." " In an 
hour," answered Fouche, " on the motion of Lafayette, 
your dethronement will be irrevocably pronounced." 
Napoleon answered with a bitter smile : " Write to the 
chambers to keep themselves quiet ; that they shall be 
satisfied," Fouch*^ wrote immediately to the deputies 
that Napoleon was about to abdicate. 

MeanwhUe the victorious armies of the alUes under 
Wellmgton and Bltlcher were rapidly approaching Paris. 
The important fortress of Cambroy was surj^rised and 
taken on the night of the 24th of June ; as was also that 
of Peronne on the 26th. By the 29th the allied armies 
reached the forest of Bondy in the suburbs of Paris; and 
established their right wing at _ Plessis, their left at St. 
Cloud, and their reserve at Versailles. Welhngton im- 
mediately oj)ened communications with the commission- 
ers of the government for the purjDose of Obtaining the 
capitulation of the capital. As soon as Napoleon discov- 
ered the determination of the chambers to proclaim his 
dethronement, and being apparently sensible of the hope- 
lessness of his situation, he retired to the private domain 



NAPOLEON AT MALMAISON. 331 

of Malmaison, the favorite retreat and the property of 
Josephine. 

This movement on the part of the fallen potentate 
seems to have been the most unwise perpetrated by him 
durmg his whole career. It was a cardinal blunder that 
he did not remain in Paris ; surround himself with the 
fifty thousand veteran troops who were congregated in 
the capital ; and defend it to the last extremity. Not 
indeed that he could possibly have been successful in that 
defense ; but a desperate show of resistance at that criti- 
cal moment would undoubtedly have enabled him to make 
much better terms with the conquerors than he was ac- 
tually able to do. He would have probably escaped the 
ignominious fate which befel him when the allies, having 
determined not to recognize him as a sovereign, or even 
as a representative of a party or of a portion of the French 
nation ; and having resolved that he should not on any 
conditions remain m Europe ; they already treated him 
as an outcast and a wanderer, without the least consid- 
eration, influence, or power. 

After spendmg six days at Malmaison, Napoleon col- 
lected an immense quantity of valuables and set out for 
Rochefort, with a large number of carriages ladened with 
his treasures. He traveled with the pomp of an emperor, 
and arrived at his destmation on the third of July. It 
was his determination then to sail for America ; but the 
close blockade of the port kept by the English cruisers, 
convinced him that it was- unpossible for him to escape 
their vigilance. Then it was that in an evil hour for him- 
self, but in an hour most propitious to the welfare and 
peace of Europe and the world, he concluded, as the only 



S32 RETURN OF LOUIS XVIII. TO PARIS. 

resource left him, to throw himself on the hospitality of 
the British nation, as " the most powerful, the most con- 
stant, and the most generous of his enemies." On the 
14th of July he embarked on board the Bellerophon, com- 
manded by Captain Maitland ; and from that moment he 
became a prisoner of war, in the keeping, of the com- 
bined powers of Europe, whom his great talents and his 
restless ambition had so long filled with terror, appre- 
hension, and despair. 

Thus terminated the stirring scenes which so strangely 
animated and diversified the short but memorable epoch 
of the hundred days. On the Yth of July, 1815, the allied 
armies entered Pai-is. For the first time during four hun- 
dred years an English drum was heard reverberating 
within the walls of the French capital. It was indeed a 
joyful hour for those brave and war-beaten veterans who 
had, after so many prodigious struggles and vicissitudes, 
at length crushed the common enemy and oppressor of 
all, and restored a lasting peace to Europe. On the 8th 
of July Louis XYIII. agam returned to his capital, escorted 
by the National Guards, again resumed the reins of gov- 
ernment, and ascended once more the brilliant throne 
of his ancestors. 

The most difficult problem which then engrossed the 
attention of the allied sovereigns and generals was the 
proper disposition which should be made of Napoleon. 
Their former misplaced generosity in assigning him the 
sovereignty of Elba, and the base use which he had made 
of that generosity, had taught them a valuable lesson of 
prudence. They were now unanimously resolved that 
Napoleon should be removed to some remote and lonely 



FINAL DISPOSAL OF BONAPARTE. 333 

island of the ocean, and there, like a chained eagle, be 
compelled to pass the remamder of his existence. St. 
Helena was the spot immortalized as the last and abhorred 
abode of this memorable hero. He first set foot upon its 
bleak and barren recks on %h-i IP/.h of October, 1815, and 
to the obscure and cheerless heights of Longwood were 
his remaining days consigned who had filled so promi- 
nent a place in the world's history. There the mighty 
conqueror of a hundred battles died in unwelcome 
obscurity and dependence ; and an humble and lonely 
grave, surrounded by the ocean's everlasting and mourn- 
ful lullaby, received the remains of him who had once 
played with scepters and diadems ; who had made and 
unmade kings at his pleasure; who had in turn de- 
throned the hereditary monarchs of Spain, Naples, Swe- 
den, and Tuscany ; who had placed two crowns upon the 
head of Joseph Bonaparte ; who had made Louis king of 
Holland, Jerome sovereign of Westi:)halia, Murat king of 
Naples, Eliza grand-duchess of Tuscany ; who had laid 
low in the very dust the vigorous monarchy of Frederic 
the Great ; who had spanned the Alps with the magnifi- 
cent Simj)lon ; who had won in marriage the haughty de- 
scendant of an imperial race ; who had shaken every 
throne in EurojDe from Edinburg to Constantinople ; and 
who was conquered and chained at last, only by the com- 
bined energies of a whole continent arrayed against him 
in one final, implacable, and mortal conflict. 



CHAPTER Xlir. 

EXILE OF NAPOLEOIf AT ST, HELENA. 

As the origin of Napoleon's career, its progress, and its 
culmination of glory, were without a parallel in human 
history ; so also was its melancholy termination. Na- 
poleon at St. Helena presents an unequaled spectacle ; 
for what can be a sublimer sight than that proud imj)erial 
eagle, after having soared in triumph over the length and 
breadth of a vast continent, having been at length van- 
qiiished and captured by combined milhons in arms, at 
last being bound, like another Prometheus, with chains 
stronger than iron, to the lonely and fi-owning rock of 
St. Helena, to be preyed upon by the vultures of undy- 
ing mortification and regret ! 

It was on the 16th of October, 1815, that Napoleon 
first beheld, from on board the " Northumberland " man- 
of-war, the bleak heights which were destined to be his 
final and detested home, towering in gloomy soUtude above 
the waves. 

St, Helena is distant six thousand miles from the coast 
of France. It rises in lonely and rejDulsive grandeur in 
the midst of the Atlantic ocean ; and its highest peak is 
elevated three thousand feet above the level of the sea. 
It is a volcanic formation, having an uneven and rocky 
surface, and in no portion of it can sufiicient fertihty be 
found to serve the rudest and simplest purposes of hus- 



APPEARAJSrCE OF ST. HELENA. 335 

bandry. It is twenty-one miles in circumference. The 
prospect on every side is cheerless in the extreme — a 
waste of rude, bleak, and shapeless crags on the one hand, 
and on the other, an horizon bounded as far as the eye 
can reach only by the vast unchanging surface of the 
ocean. At the period of Napoleon's arrival, its inhabi- 
tants were five hundred in number, includhig also a gar- 
rison of one hundred and fifty men. The climate is un- 
healthy, being subject from its exjDOsed position to vio- 
lent and excessive changes of temperature. Occasionally, 
tropical storms sweep over the rude surface of the island 
with sudden and terrific violence, destroying the few 
shelters which the hand of man may have erected to deco- 
rate the waste. James Town, its capital, situated at the 
base of its towering ridges, was a village of no preten- 
sion, chiefly inhabited by the various employees of the 
British government. 

Such was the spot selected by his triumphant foes, aa 
the last residence of the once mighty Corsican. After 
spending some time at the Briars, a pleasant cottage near 
James Town, inhabited by an English family named Bal- 
come, his removal was ordered to Longwood on the 11th 
of December, 1815, and then the real importance and in- 
terest of Napoleon's exile in St. Helena commenced. 

"The suite of Najjoleon who accompanied him in hia 
exile, was composed of the followmg persons : Count Las 
Cases, as his private secretary ; a person who twenty-four 
years before, had emigrated in the suite of the family of 
the murdered Louis XYI. disguised as a jockey. Count 
Montholon, Count Bertrand, General Gourgaud and Mar- 
chand, his valet de diambre — these long tried friends of Ka 



336 SITUATION OF LONGWOOD. 

poleon and their families alone were allowed or were will- 
ing to share the solitude of their illustrious benefactor. 

When Napoleon was about to pass from the Bellero- 
phon, on board the ^Northumberland, Admiral Keith ap- 
proached him with a profound bow, and said with sub- 
dued emotion holding out his hand : " England demands 
your sword as a prisoner of war ! " Napoleon was quite 
taken by surprise at this demand ; but instantly recover- 
ing himself, he placed his hand convulsively on his sword 
— the sword he had worn at Austerlitz — and a terrible 
and defiant glance of his eye was his only answer. The 
aged admiral was astounded. His tall head, white with 
the frost of years, sunk down, overawed by the fierce ex- 
pression of the captive ; and the latter retained his sword. 

Longwood was a small collection of inferior buildings, 
situated on a bleak and exposed plateau, eighteen hun- 
dreed feet above the level of the sea, and near the center 
of the island. This place was covered with gum trees, 
which exhibited only a stunted growth, and afforded 
neither shade nor beauty to the landscape. The main 
building was a structure of stone, some seventy feet in 
length, and thirty feet wide, with several additional build- 
ings of much less extent. These were all constructed in 
the simplest manner without the least pretensions to 
architectural beauty, and without any of the appliances of 
luxury, or even of comfort. To this spot was conducted, 
as to his last and only home on earth, that great potentate 
who had but recently revelled in the most luxuriant pala- 
ces of Europe, and had called the matchless magnificence 
of Versailles and St. Cloud his own. A close line of 
sentries bad been drawn around the plateau of Longwood 



NAPOLEON'S PROTEST. 337 

by the Englisli governor from the day of the emperor'a 
arrival there ; and through these, neither the emperor 
nor any of his suite could ever j^ass, except by the special 
permission of the then commandant of the island. To 
these, and other indignities, the fallen conqueror submit- 
ted in sUence. He indeed considered himself deeply out- 
raged by the British government who had placed him ia 
that vile durance. Shortly after his arrival at St. Helena, 
he addressed a note to the British cabinet, in which he 
protested that he was not a prisoner of war ; that he had 
voluntarily placed huuself under the protection of Eng- 
land, before going on board the Bellerophon ; that he 
could have placed liimself under the protection of the 
Emperor Francis ; but that he had reposed full confidence 
in the honor and hosjjitahty of the British government ; 
that he had been deceived ; and that now odious restric- 
tions were imposed upon him, which curtailed his hberty, 
and were derogatory to his dignity. But these grievan- 
ces were but trifles compared with those which he was 
compelled to endure after the arrival of Sir Hudson 
Lowe, as governor of the island, on the 14th of April, 
1816. Then Napoleon began to feel the real ignominy 
and degradation of his condition. 

As this man of mighty will and insatiable ambition re- 
flected, amid the solitude of his ocean home, on his past 
prodigious career, how singular must have been his emo- 
tions ! At that very moment a distant contiaent still 
shook with the recent shock of his legions, on the ensan- 
guined plain of Waterloo. All the statesmen and sover- 
eigns of that contiaent still exerted themselves with un- 
ceasing industry, to forge yet stronger the chains which 
O 22 



ij38 APPREHENSIONS OF EUROPE'S MONAROHS. 

bound this formidable giant to his prison. All the in- 
habitants of that controent, from ocean to ocean, stiD 
trembled lest he should once more break loose with in- 
vincible power from that distant prison ; return again to 
the capital of his lost empire ; wrest his scepter from the 
hands of those who had just usurped it ; and calling 
around him, as by the omnipotent wand of a magician, a 
hundred thousand armed followers, agam resume his ca- 
reer of conquest ; again overturn thrones and dynasties ; 
and once more assume that irresistible supremacy over 
half a continent, of which he had so recently, and by the 
merest accident been deprived. 

And while all Europe thus trembled with apprehension 
and whispered with pale lips the j)ossibility of the fulfill- 
ment of their fears, behold the exUe himself ia his distant, 
prison. Surrounded by half a score of his most attached 
friends, some of whom had been near him when first his 
rising star began to ascend from obscurity, who" had ac- 
companied him ever since, during all the wonderful vicis- 
situdes of his career — he had ample leisure to reflect on 
the mighty revulsions of fortune and of fate which had 
overtaken him. Did he commiserate the millions of men, 
whose bones then were crumbling beneath the earth on a 
hundred battle-fields, who had been led on to conflict and 
to death by his own msatiable ambition ? Did he then 
think of the millions of orphans and M^dows who at that 
moment from Eduiburgh to Cairo, from Madrid to Mos- 
cow, were shedding bitter tears over the loss of beloved 
husbands, brothers, and friends? Did his imagination 
picture before him the countless hosts of ruined and 
wounded wretches, who, at that very moment were 



NAPOLEON'S FEELINGS IN EXILE. 339 

cvatvling overtlie earth, almost from the rising to the set- 
ting smi, victims of the horrors of war which his own 
boundless ambition had inflicted ; and who cm'sed him as 
the sole canse of their misfortunes ? 

We doubt, indeed, whether he felt one single com- 
punctious emotion. His memoirs do not give indication 
of a solitary circumstance which would seem to prove 
that he experienced any sensation whatever, as the long 
and cheerless years rolled by, except regret at the dis- 
comfiture of his prodigious ambition ; hatred and malig- 
nity against his cautious and jealous jailors ; curses against 
the mutability of fortmie ; and defiance of his future fate, 
whatever the mysterious events of the time to come might 
develope before him. Napoleon Bonaparte such as he 
was through his life, amid all its amazing scenes of triumph 
and glory, of disaster and of wo, the same he remained until 
he breathed his last sigh of agony at Longwood, un- 
changed and unchangeable. And the various mortifica- 
tions, indignities, and insults — the deep despondency and 
despair — which he was compelled to endure during his 
captivity, the loss of all domestic ties and sympathies, the 
exulting joy of his triumphant and implacable foes, and 
the slow but conscious approach of a painful and prema- 
ture death — all these things were inflictions which taught 
his proud spirit to appreciate something of the misery 
which he had inflicted on milhons of his race ; and ena- 
bled him, imwillingly, to estimate and feel the enormity 
of his own career, as the cause of infinite sufi'ering on the 
earth. 

Sir Hudson Lowe seemed to have been chosen by the 
British government, as the jailor of Napoleon, because 



340 MEASURES OF SIR HUDSON LOWE. 

he was known to possess qualities which would render his 
authority galling to his captive to the last degree. ISTor 
were their expectations disappoiated. As soon as the 
new governor arrived on the island, he made different 
and much stricter regulations. The trade's-people were 
forbidden to sell the emperor's party anything, or to hold 
auy communication vidth them whatever. All the paths 
and roads leading up to the heights of Longwood were 
continually guarded by patrols of soldiers. And when 
visitors who possessed passports fi-oni the governor visi- 
ted the captive, the guards were to report at what time 
the visits were made, and how long they continued. Spies 
were contuaually lurking around the retreat of the em- 
peror, who reported to Sir Hudson from day to day, 
everything even to the minutest event which occurred 
within the reach of their scrutiny. The expenses of Na- 
poleon's household were made the subject of interference 
and dispute. The quantity and quaUty of his food and 
wines were inquired into and objected agauist. To these 
and various other annoyances, the fallen despot made but 
one reply to his persecutor: "You have full power over 
my body ; but my mind is, and will remain, beyond your 
reach. It is as proud and full of com*age on this rock as 
when I commanded Europe ! " We cannot but admire 
the energy and indomitable firmness of an intellect which 
remained unyielding and uncrushed by such great disas- 
ters, and by such a downfall from so immense an elevation. 
In October, 1816, so great had become the terror which 
agitated the minds of the cabinets of Europe, lest their 
colossal captive might still escape them, that they imposed 
new and more stringent restrictions upon- him. The ar- 



THE TREATY OF 1815. 341 

tides of the treatj into which England, Austria, Prussia, 
and Russia had entered, in reference to Napoleon, on the 
2d of August, 1815, contained the following provisions : 

1. Napoleon Bonaparte is regarded by these powers, 
as their prisoner of war. 

2. His safe-keeping is entrusted to the British govern- 
ment. The choice of his abode and the means necessary 
to secure his safe retention are reserved to his Britannic 
majesty. 

3. The courts of Austria, Russia, and Prussia shall ap- 
.point commissioners to reside at the place of Napoleon's 
abode, who shall constantly assure themselves of his pres- 
ence there. 

4. The king of England binds himself to fulfill this ar- 
rangement with reference to the future secure confine- 
ment of Napoleon Bonaparte. 

It would seem as if with the progress of time the allied 
powers became more and more fearftd of the escape of 
their captive. Accordingly in 1816, instructions were 
sent to Sir Hudson Lowe, that the order should be made 
known, "that henceforth General Bonaparte is required 
to abstain from entermg any house, and from holding any 
conversation with the j)ersons whom he may meet, unless 
in the presence of an English officer." The former allow- 
ance made by the British government for the support of 
the captive's estabhshment was now also diminished ; and 
NajDoleon was compelled to permit the sale of his plate, in 
order to make up the consequent deficiency. This was not 
because he did not possess any money for that purj)ose ; 
but because he wished, by this act, to proclaim to the 
world that he had been compelled to appropriate some 



342 NAPOLEON'S HATRED OF HIS JAILOR. 

of his private means to the maintenance of one, whom 
the allied sovereigns had themselves proclaimed to be 
theii' prisoner of war, and whom, according to the usages 
of civilized nations, they were bomid adequately to sup- 
port. During the interviews between Napoleon and Sir 
Hudson Lowe, the former had uttered sentiments of the 
bitterest contempt and hostility toward his jailor. Said 
he, " You never let a day pass without your torturing 
me by your insults. Where have you ever commanded 
anything but bandits and deserters ? I know the names 
of all the English generals of distinction ; but I never 
heard of you." Language such as this, naturally fiUed the 
narrow mind of Sir Hudson Lowe with the most implaca- 
ble resentment against his captive; and the various 
means adopted by him to display his enmity, reminds us 
of the fable of the prostrate and dying lion assaulted by 
the audacious jackass. 

Napoleon at this period either was or j)retended to be 
poor, and he sent letters to the members of his family in 
Europe, stating that he was in want of the most necessary 
comforts. They hastened to offer him the whole, or a 
large share of, their fortmies. King Joseph placed ten 
millions of francs subject to his order. Queen Hortense, 
the beautiful Pauline, and the avaricious mother of the 
ex-emperor, each offered him the whole of their fortunes ; 
while Eliza wrote to him that she possessed but twenty 
thousand francs in the world, and the half of these were 
his. It was chiefly of the liberal offer of his brother Jo- 
seph that Napoleon subsequently made use. 

The mortifications of the emperor's condition still con- 
tinued to increase. In October orders were received that, 



SIR HUDSON LOWE. 343 

his personal suite should be diminished by the withdrawal 
of four persons. Soon afterward his private secretary, 
Las Cases, was arrested; his papers sealed up and re- 
moved ; and he himself eventually compelled to leave St. 
Helena, and return to Europe. Sir Hudson occasionally 
took sudden fits of apprehension lest his prisoner had es- 
caped ; and then he would rush up to Longwood, and 
force himself into the presence of the captive in defiance 
of all etiquette or even decorum. On one of these occa- 
sions Napoleon became incensed beyond endurance. Be- 
ing informed by his attendant that Sir Hudson was about 
to enter his apartment thus unannounced, he said ; " Tell 
my jailor that he may exchange his keys for the hatchet 
of the executioner, but that he shall not enter my apart- 
ment except over my corpse. Give me my pistols ! " Sir 
Hudson overheard this threat ; and being satisfied that 
Napoleon had not escaped, he retired. The captive and 
the jailor never met again. But the latter gave orders 
to aU the sentries that if General Bonaparte himself ever 
attempted to approach any of them, he should immediately 
be arrested and confined in the guard-house. An un- 
mense iron grating was at last sent for to England, which 
was placed around the circumference of the plateau of 
Longwood, several miles in extent. This grating firmly 
planted in the ground was so high, that it was impossible 
to scale it, and was guarded by one hundred and thirty 
sentinels both by day and night. Such were some of the 
precautions adopted by the British government to secure 
the detention of the most dangerous, as he was the most 
able man, in the world. Napoleon, as the crowning act 
of indignity heaped upon him, saw from his window at 



344 , THE MODERN MECCA. 

Longw^ood, the erection of this high railing around the 
outskii'ts of his abode ; he beheld in it another and clearer 
proof of the excessive vigilance with which his person and 
his captivity were watched. And he perceived in these 
various annoyances and precautions clearer evidence that 
the possibility of his escape was daily diminishing, and 
that he was at last destined never more to behold the 
sunny plains of his beloved France, but to end his cheer- 
less exile, only by his death. 

It will readily be supposed that Napoleon's residence 
at St. Helena, rendered that barren rock the most inter- 
esting and observed locality of the whole earth ; and that 
pilgrims from every clime visited it, to gaze upon the fal- 
len conqueror in his low and humbled estate. Such in- 
deed was the fact. The bleak heights of St. Helena be- 
came another Mecca, toward which the feet of the curi- 
ous, the distinguished, and the fair from almost every 
clime, were continually tending. These offered at the 
crumbling shrine of the fallen deity, the tributes of their 
admiration and reverence ; and some made propositions to 
him for the purpose of procuring his release, which indi- 
cated that there were hearts which still beat with undy- 
ing devotion to his cause, and were animated with the 
belief that he would yet regain his lost empire, and 
triumph over every foe. 

One of these propositions came from the captain of an 
Enghsh merchant vessel returning from the East Indies ; 
who assured him that the whole English nation were out- 
raged at the course jDursued toward him by their own 
cabinet. Another offer came to him from one of the offi- 
cers of the garrison at St. Helena ; who proposed that Na- 



PROPOSALS OF ESCAPE. 345 

poleon should reach a certain point of the island on the 
shore, which was but an hour's walk from Longwood ; 
was very remote, obscure, and guarded only by a post 
of infantry ; and that thence row boats would convey him 
in a few minutes to a vessel which rode at anchor near the 
spot. A stUl different offer was made to Napoleon to effect 
his release by means of submarine vessels, which were to 
approach a point of the coast which the cajDtive could 
easily reach, and then hiduig himself in a ravine from six 
o'clock in the evening untU the time of departure during 
the night. Five thousand louis were expended by a 
friend of Dr. O'Meara, in making experiments in reference 
to the practicability of this plan. 

For some reason or other. Napoleon refused to accept 
any of these successive propositions. He said to Mon- 
tholon : " I should not be six months in America without 
being assassinated by the Count d'Artois' creatures. He 
sent the Chouan Brulard to kill me at Elba. I see in 
America nothing but assassination or oblivion. I pre- 
fer St. Helena to these. My martyrdom here will restore 
the croto7i of France to m,y dynasty .^" Proj)hetic words 
which the progress of time has so truly and so wonderfully 
confirmed ! 

It may weU be imagined that the monotonous life of 

the ex-emperor was sufficiently dreary. His only or chief 

solace was the exercise of dictating his memoirs to some 

member of his suite. All access to his residence was 

strictly forbidden, from six o'clock in the evening tUl six 

in the morning. This rule enforced a degree of solitude 

upon him which was in the highest degree irksome. His 

annoyances continued to increase; and in 1818 the em- 
O* 



346 NAPOLEON'S SICKNESS. 

peror's physician Dr. O'Meara, received orders not to quit 
the enclosed grounds of Longwood; three months af- 
terward, he was forcibly removed from aU intercourse 
with Napoleon, and soon was compelled to leave the isl- 
and altogether. During the same year. General Goui-- 
gaud, one of his personal suite was induced to return to 
France, on accoimt of his own sickness. 

The year 1819 found the exUe still declining lq health. 
Tn January of this year, he could not quit his bed-room. 
On the 16th and 17th he became much worse. He was at 
this time without the advice of any medical attendant, and 
he was compelled to request the services of a physician who 
happened then to be on board the " Conqueror," in the 
harbor of St. Helena. During the year 1820, the fatal 
disease which was secretly gnawing at his vitals — cancer 
m the stomach — made rapid progress. The illustrious 
patient was becoming much attenuated. His once ro- 
tund figure was rapidly shrinking to that of a skeleton. 
He could no longer take his customary rides around the 
Hmited domain allowed hitn. His nights were sleepless, 
and he received many clear prognostics of the mournful 
fact that his dissolution was not very far distant. 

The exUe of Napoleon at St. Helena, is not so remarka- 
ble from the fact that he ever lived there, as because he 
died there. His life in that remote and obscure quarter 
of the globe was not particularly worthy of note. It was 
common-place. He could not display in that humble 'and 
circumscribed sphere any of the mighty qualities which 
have rendered him the most wonderful of men. He would 
have acted very differently had he spent those years upon 
the brUliant throne of France. . But Napoleon died at St, 



NAPOLEON'S WILL. 347 

Helena, precisely as he would have expired had he closed 
his career within the gilded chambers of St. Cloud. How 
that imperial spirit would confront the great King of 
Terrors anywhere^ is an inqiiiry of intense interest ; and 
the incidents which attended that last fearful struggle 
were in substance the same, whether the conflict occurred 
on the pinnacle of his glory in France, or amid the glooms 
of obscurity at St. Helena. 

The first symptoms of his approaching dissolution were 
his vomiting of black matter, proving the presence of 
ulceration in the stomach, accomjDanied by an intense pain 
in his left side. JSTapoleon was attended during his last 
illness by Dr. Arnott, an Enghsh physician of whose 
abilities he had received favorable statements. On the 
21st of April, 1821, being himself convinced of the near- 
ness of his dissolution, he prepared his will with his own 
hand, and duly sealed and executed it. He began it by 
the declaration that " he died in the Apostohcal Roman 
reUgion, in the bosom of which he had been born !" He 
also desired that his ashes might repose on the banks of 
the Seine, among the French people whom he had loved 
so well. He added that he died prematurely, because he 
was assassinated by the Enghsh cabinet and their deputy. 

He then made various bequests to his relatives and most 
attached followers, amounting to raore than a million of 
dollars. The English government had not confiscated his 
private property ; but had allowed him the full and free 
disposal of it. Napoleon's plea of poverty, therefore, 
made j)ublicly during his captivity at St. Helena, was 
without foundation, and was used merely for the purpose 
of poUtical eflect. His wih contained thii-ty-seven differ- 



S48 HE PREPARES FOR DEATH. 

ent legacies ; among which were many of a hundred thou- 
sand francs each to his most attached officers and soldiers, 
who had remained in France. He made touching allu- 
sions in his will to his absent wife, Maria Louisa, and to 
his son, the ill-fated kmg of Rome. He also spoke in 
terms of affection respecting his mother, his brothers, sis- 
ters, and the two adopted children of his once loved 
Josephine — ^Hortense and Eugene. He forgave his ene- 
mies ; and desu^ed to leave that world in peace, which he 
had so long agitated and desolated by his insatiable 
ambition. 

He then prepared himself to die. Not indeed as or- 
dinary mortals would prepare to leave the world ; but by 
composing his mind to a consciousness of the dignity of 
the occasion ; and by so demeaning himself in this last 
and solemn act of the memorable drama of his life, that it 
might be said, that the great Napoleon was not unworthy 
of himself — ^his genius and his fame — even in the hour 
•which most fearfully tries men's souls. 

On the morning of the 26th of April, 1821, the emperor 
called Montholon to his bedside and said to him : " I have 
just seen my good Josephine, but she would not embrace 
me. She disappeared at the moment I was about to take 
her in my arms. She told me we were about to see each 
other again, never more to part. Did you see her ? " 
Was this a delusion of that mighty brain, or was it another 
proof, that denizens of the spirit-land may, and sometimes 
do, revisit the "glimpses of the moon," and hold inter- 
course with those they have left behind them ? 

During the night of the 29th of AprU, the dying em- 
peror suffered intense agony ; and perspired so profusely 



HE RECEIVES EXTREME UNCTION. 349 

tLat his linen was changed seven times. His person had 
become emaciated to the last degree ; bnt his indomita- 
ble mind retained its undiminished energy and power. 
At four o'clock m the morning, he dictated to Montholon 
two elaborate projects, which seem, under the circumstan- 
ces of the case, to he the most remarkable things recorded 
in history. The dying man, already strugghng within 
the jaws of death, dictated one paper on the " future des- 
tination of Versailles," and the other on " the reorgani- 
zation of the National Guard of Fi'ance." Five days be- 
fore he expired, this wonderful person still interested him- 
self deeply in the internal government and architectural 
improvement of a country six thousand miles distant fi-om 
his bedside — a country which he could never by any pos- 
sibility, again behold ! 

Conscious of his approaching end, Napoleon during the 
night of the 1st of May, sent for the Abbe Vignali, his 
almoner, to administer to him the last succors of religion. 
It is certainly an incident which serves to show the in- 
herent and divine power of truth, that the greatest intel- 
lect which the world has ever seen, did not discard the 
aid which Christianity is intended to afford, in his last mo- 
ments. It is worthy of note that he, who all his life, had 
either been an infidel, a Mahomedan, or a sensualist in the 
fullest sense of the term, should, when ioi extremis, aban- 
don all other supj)orts, and rely solely on, the aid af- 
forded by religion. He who had suppressed the inquisi- 
tion; who had imprisoned the Poj)e; who had, more 
than any other man, broken down the power of priestly 
arrogance and authority throughout the world ; was will- 
ing, when the solemn realities of an unknown world were 



350 HE BECOMES DELIRIOUS. 

beginniBg to close around him, to implore the help of a 
principle and an institution, which he had so fiercely op- 
posed. __ And yet it illustrates at the same time, the in- 
herent weakness even of the mightiest, that Napoleon de- 
sired the utmost secresy to be observed in reference to 
his acceptance of these last rites ; lest forsooth, his conduct 
might excite the derision of the gay and satirical Parisians! 

On the 2d of May, the expiring emperor again dictated 
to his private secretary two hours in succession During 
the night of the 3d of May, at two o'clock, he sat up with 
a convulsive movement ; and at length ti'ied to arise from 
his bed. He was enduring the most intense agony. The 
deadly cancer in his stomach was gnawing at his vitals, 
having by a slow yet inevitable process, approached a 
vital part. "I am burning," said he, "as if -my stomach 
was full of coals of fire." During the succeeding day, for 
the first time in the history of that mighty intellect, it 
wandered ; and reason for a short time deserted her ac- 
customed throne and became enshrouded in darkness. 

At length the 5th of May dawned — the day on which 
the greatest hero of modern times was destined to leave 
the world. Toward two o'clock he became delirious. 
Amid the wild wanderings of that giant mind, an oc- 
casional phrase escaped him, which clearly indicated on 
what favorite themes his last thoughts dwelt : — France.^ 
armee — tete .dParmee — Josephine. Then, at length, as the 
fatal disease grasped deeper hold of his vitals, and the 
last pang of agony pierced his frame, he sprang with a con- 
vulsive movement from his bed ; and though his faithful 
attendant, Martholon, attempted to resist his rising, so 
great was the spasmodic strength inspired by that awful 



DEATH OF NAPOLEON. 351 

torture, that the attendant was thrown down upon the car- 
pet and Napoleon fell with him. By the assistance of 
Archambaud, he was soon replaced in his bed ; and be- 
came agam tranquil. His pangs of pam and suffering 
were intense, and yet he bore them with silent and heroic 
fortitude. At length, an omuious rattling in the throat 
gave the presage of immediate dissolution, and the last 
moment had arrived. It was late in the afternoon. A 
terrific storm had arisen, and the heavens were darkened 
with heavy and drifting clouds. The ocean had suddenly 
changed its etei'nal mellow lullaby to hoarser and louder 
tones of wrath ; and lashed the rock-bound coast with 
appalling fury. The tempest raged over the rude surface 
of the island ; and blackness and darkness seemed to por- 
tend some great calamity to nature. The rude dwellmg 
of the dying hero shook to its foundations with the 
fury of the storm. But he heeded it not. Within that 
silent chamber his mighty spirit was dealing then with 
that dread conqueror who is stronger than the greatest 
of earthly kings. He who had sent so many myriads of 
his fellow creatures to a premature grave, was now him- 
self about to descend to its dark and cheerless shadows ; 
and his untamed spirit was soon to ajDpear before the im- 
partial judge of all. At six o'clock in the evening of the 
5th of May, 1821, the immortal hero of Friedland and of 
Austerlitz— the dauntless conqueror on a hundred battle- 
fields, once the sovereign and dictator of the half of Eu- 
rope — expii'ed on the lone and barren heights of St. He- 
lena ; and left the world to that repose, security, and 
peace, of which he had so long and so ambitiously de- 
prived it. 



352 HIS REMAINS REMOVED TO FRANCE, 

The great event was not unanticipated. The whole 
world awaited with breathless expectation the news which 
would announce the momentous event ; and when that 
information at length arrived, and spread rapidly from 
one end of Europe to another — that Napoleon was dead — 
a whole continent, nay even the civiMzed world, was con- 
vulsed by conflicting emotions — some with joy and ex- 
ultation that death had at last paralyzed that mighty arm, 
and some with sorrow, that so glorious a spirit had -svuiged 
its way from earth, prematurely, in the midst of exile, 
suffering and obscurity ; and that they should never more 
behold its prodigious feats of heroism and of power. 

On the 16th of December, 1840, a singular and impos- 
ing spectacle was presented in the ancient and brilliant 
capital of France. The remauis of the great emperor, 
transported from theii* lonely bed on the rude heights of 
St. Helena, had been won back again to France, from their 
stern janitors ; and now, his last ardent wish that his re- 
mains might repose on the sunny banks of the Seine, was 
about to be reahzed. A procession five miles in length, 
and faneral solemities unequalled in the memory of man 
for imposing grandeur and mournful magnificence, were 
about to commemmorate the event ; and to accompany 
their crumbhng dust to its last gorgeous home beneath 
the dome of the Invalides. There his dust now reposes — • 
a shrme to which millions wiU repair, as to the most im- 
pressive and memorable spot on earth — until the end of 
time ; and till that dust, reanimated by omnific power 
at the last great day, shaU arise again to the resurrection 
of the just or the unjust ! 



RETURN OF LOUIS XVIII. 353 

"Yet spirit immortal! the tomL cannot bind thee , 
For like thine own eagle that soared to the siiu, 
Thou springest from bondage, and leavest behind thee, 
A name which, beside thee, no mortal hath won. 
Though nations may combat, and war's thunders rattle, 
No more on thy steed shalt thou sweep o'er the plain; 
Thou sle'pst thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle, 
No sound can awake thee to glory again !" 

In the spi'ing of 1814, after twenty- three years of exile, 
Louis XVIII. ascended the throne of his ancestors, un- 
der the auspices of the armies of the confederate powers 
of Europe. France underwent a complete transformation. 
Excepting the short interval of the hundred days, Louis 
retained possession of an uneasy and insecure throne, 
until the period of his death in September, 1 824. He 
was succeeded hy Charles X. a man of very considerable 
abilities, and energy of character. This monarch was 
highly conservative in his principles, and vainly aimed to 
bring back again the absolute sway of throne and altar, 
over a people who had read Voltaire and Rousseau, and 
had heard the thrilling eloquence of Vergniaud and Robes- 
pierre. After many obstinate struggles with the spmt 
and the prejudices of the nation, a revolution broke out 
on the 2'7th of July, 1830, in which three thousand per- 
sons were killed, and Charles X. was compelled to abdi- 
cate. He fled from the country. To him succeeded 
Louis PhiUipe, tue representative of the younger branch 
c4'the Bourbon dynasty. After eighteen years of dexter- 
ous but unprincipled government, Louis PhiUipe was also 
expelled fi-om the throne by a sudden insm-rection of the 
Parisian populace, and a Republic was established in the 

stead of the banished princes. These events opened the 

23 



354 LOUIS PHILLIPE. 

way for the remarkable career of the wise and sagaciouts 
statesman, who now governs France, and who has so won- 
derfully mtroduced the splendid and prosperous era of 
the Second Empire. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE CAEEES OE LOUIS NAPOLEON EMPEEOR OF THE FRENCH. 

The elevation of Louis Napoleon to one of the most 
brUliant and powerful thrones in the world after so many 
years of exile, persecution, and contempt, presents one 
of the most remarkable spectacles recorded in history. It 
was not very singular that, when the elder branch of the 
great house of Bourbon had proved itself utterly unfit to 
wield the destinies of France, the prudent and experienced 
Louis Phillij)e should have been substituted in their place, 
by a nation who were wearied of change, and who de- 
sired a permanent government, possessing some consid- 
erable elements of popular liberty. Louis PhiUipe had 
won the respect of the whole world, by his natural and 
acquired gifts, by his prudence and patience in misfortune, 
and by the talents for government which he had already 
disjilayed. But none of these favorable influences op- 
erated in behalf of the discomfited hero of Strasburg and 
Boulogne ; and yet, propitious fortune, and his own un- 
expected displays of genius, have placed in his vigorous 
hand, a scepter more powerful and despotic than that 
of Louis Phillipe. 

Louis Xapoleon Bonaparte was born at Paris on the 
20th of April, 1808. He was the son of Louis Bonaparte, 
the brother of the emperor Napoleon I., and Hortense 
de Beauharnais, the daughter of Josephine. His birth 



S56 PARENTAGE OF NAPOLEON III. 

was celebrated with some enthusiasm, inasmuch as his 
near relationship to the emperor rendered it not impossi- 
ble that, at some future period in the absence of more 
direct heirs, the son of the amiable Hortense might in- 
herit- the dominion of the great conqueror. He was bap- 
tised at Fontainbleau, and Napoleon and the empress 
Maria Louisa, officiated as sponsors at the ceremony. 
All this partiality was based on the supposition, that 
Louis iSTapoleon was legitimate ; but there were not want- 
ing persons both then, and smce, who positively asserted 
that the father of the present emperor of the French was 
not the king of HoUand, but the Dutch Admiral Verhuel; 
between whom and Hortense there was known to exist 
a most intimate and confidential attachment. It is also 
asserted that Louis N"apoleon, the husband of Hortense, 
was fuUy aware of this circumstance ; that it was not 
unknown to the rest of the Bonaparte family ; that the 
son of ex-king Jerome used frequently to say, "Napoleon 
HI. is a stranger to our family ; he is a Dutchman ; " and 
that the widow of Lucien Bonaparte was accustomed to 
speak of the prisoner of Ham, only as the "person bear- 
ing the false name," Other members of this remarkable 
family have frequently used in reference to the successful 
adventurer, an epithet much less charitable or decorous 
than this. 

Louis Napoleon was seven years old when the great 
disaster of Waterloo prostrated the empire of Napoleon I. 
in the dust. Immediately afterward his mother retired 
to Augsburg, in Bavaria, and her son accompanied her. 
After a considerable period they removed to Arenemberg, 
ST\dtzerland ; and there the studies of Louis Napoleon 



NAPOLEON III. AT ARENEMBERG. 357 

eeriously began. He devoted himself particularly to the 
belles-lettres, and to the exact sciences, as well as to the 
study of the military art. To improve himself in this lat- 
ter branch of knowledge, he visited the camp at Thun, 
and acti\>ely engaged in every species of militaiy service. 

It was whUe thus employed that the revolution of 1830 
broke out at Paris, which placed Louis Phillipe upon the 
throne of France. The enmity of this disguised despot 
to the whole Bonaparte race is weU known. Louis Na- 
poleon was in Italy when his elder brother, Charles Bona- 
parte expired ; and he thus became the legitimate heir 
and representative of the great emperor, inasmuch as the 
king of Rome was also removed, nearly at the same pe- 
riod, by the fatal artifices and intrigues of Louis PhUlipe. 
Louis Napoleon returned to his retreat in Switzerland, 
and devoted himself industriously to the pursuit of mili- 
tary knowledge, and of general information. It was at 
this i^eriod that he published a work which exhibits very 
considerable abiUties as an author; his Considerations 
militaires sur la Suisse. This production won for its au- 
thor no mean reputation ; and procured for him from 
the Swiss cantons, the honorable title and dignity of 
Citizen of the B^epublic. 

During this period, not only Louis ISTajDoleon, but also 
his mother were very much embarrassed in their circum- 
stances. Of all the vast wealth v.hich the queen of Hol- 
land once possessed, nothing then remained to her but 
one valuable diamond necklace. Driven by necessity, she 
at length sent word to the Tuilleries, that she was reduced 
to the deepest misery, and had nothing remaining but 
that necklace, which she entreated the royal family to 



358 HE COKSPIRES AGAINST LOUIS PHILI.IPE. 

purchase from her. In reply she was asked, at what price 
she would dispose of it ? She answered, at four hundred 
thousand francs. They accepted the sale, and instead of 
senduig her the amount demanded, they gave her the 
sum of seven hundred thousand. This opportune and gen- 
erous act on the part of the female portion of the family 
of Louis PhUHpe, preserved the mifortunate Hortense 
from ftiture want and misery. 

But this display of generosity did not prevent Louis 
Napoleon from feeling it his duty to attempt the over- 
throw of the " Idng of the barricades." Feeling dissatis- 
fied with the state of France, and hoping by a revolution 
to realize his Ufe-long aspiration, and even presentiment, 
that he should one day occupy the throne of his illustrious 
uncle, he commenced extensive intrigues with the army. 
His emmissaries were neither few nor inefficient. Among 
other officers of distinction, whom he gained over to his 
interest, was Yaudry, the commandant of the garrison of 
'Strasburg. That officer was active in seducing the sold- 
iers under him; and in holding communications with 
other commandants throughout France. At length, the 
conspirators thought that their schemes were ripe, and 
!;hat the favorable moment for action had arrived. On 
the 29th of October, 1836, Louis ISTapoleon crossed the 
French frontier, and entered Strasburg, in order to meet 
a secret assemblage of the officers who were disaffected 
toward the government of Louis Phillipe. The prince 
addressed them in an animated speech, and strove to ex- 
cite their enthusiasm. He partially succeeded ; the sol. 
diers who had been won over, paraded the streets of the 
city ; the revolution was proclaimed ; and an effoi t made 



AFFAIR OF STRASBURG. 359 

to create a general and favorable excitement throughout 
the city. The whole movement was premature and 
abortive. It was easily suppressed, and its precipitate 
leader, together with his principal supporters, were made 
prisoners. Louis Napoleon was tried and condemned to 
death ; but on the urgent supplications of his mother, hia 
life was spared, and he was banished to the United 
States. Little did the family of Louis Phillipe then im- 
agme, that the ruined adventm-er whom their generosity 
had once saved from poverty and starvation, and after- 
ward from death itself, would at a later period, supplant 
them on their throne ; would take the extreme measure 
of compelling them to dispose at a sacrifice of all their 
pi'ojDerty m France ; and would so surround his scepter 
with every bulwark of power, of popular adulation, and 
of material defense, that their own return to empire has 
been made thereby, the most improbable, and the most 
difficult of all the eventualities which lie hidden in the 
deep and dark bosom of futurity ! 

The prince was conducted to Paris under a guard ; 
taken thence to L'Orient, and placed on board the An- 
dromede. He arrived safely in New York, and spent the 
first few weeks of his sojourn in the great repubho of 
the west, in travelling through its most remarkable and 
interestiag regions. At this period of his 1 fe, Louis Na- 
poleon was characterized no longer by his ardent love of 
science, nor by his ambitious longings and intrigues. He 
had become, j)artly by the force of circumstances, partly 
from disappointment and chagrin, and partly from the 
strong natural bias of his nature, which he no longer sup- 
pressed, a reckless debauchee and libertine. His acts of 



860 HIS SOJOURN IN NEW YORK 

iTmnoraJity and vice rendered him even notorious. In 
"New York, he became the habitue of the most celebrated 
hamits of infamy and licentiousness. He was equally re- 
gardless of aU pecuniary liabilities. He outraged public 
propriety and decency by his extreme excesses. He was 
even arrested and imprisoned in the common jail, and 
there herded with the lowest and basest of mankind. 
ISTot long prior to his leaving New York, he was arrested 
for a disgraceful misdemeanor, committed by him in the 
house of a woman, whose establishment he frequently 
visited. So notorious had he become at that time, that 
he received from the French residents of New York the 
Parisian epithet of Hadenguet y a term used to designate 
those debauchees and drunkards who, being hopelessly 
involved in debt, regularly waste Sundays and Mondays 
without the barriers, in places of amusement. At this 
period the prince was reduced to the lowest poverty; 
and subsisted entirely on the sums loaned and given him 
by his male and female friends. 

He was recalled from this life of degradation and de- 
pendence by the sad news of the dangerous iUness of his 
mother. He immediately embarked at New York for 
Europe, and hastened to the bed-side of the ex-queen of 
Holland at Arenemberg. She expired ; and scarcely had 
she been interred, when Louis PhiUipe demanded from 
the Swiss cantons, the expulsion of the hero of Strasburg 
from their territories. He was compelled once' more to 
flee ; and on this occasion he took refuge in England. 

The life of the Prince Napoleon during his residence 
In England, very much resembled that which he led, 
while residing in the United States, His pecuniary ne- 



ins EXILE m ENGLAND. 361 

cessities compelled him to descend to many ignoLie ex- 
pedients from which doubtless his own sense of propriety 
would have revolted ; while his disappointed ambition 
and the death of his mother disposed him to indulge still 
more deeply in the licentiousness and dissipation which 
had marked his conduct at a previous period. ISTor can 
any one who contemplates the career of this remarkable 
man, fail to be struck with the amazing extremes of fort- 
une exhibited with reference to his history in England ; 
how, in 1840 he was there an impoverished exile, broken 
in hope, in fortune, and in character ; how, at that time, 
he was the known and despised frequenter of every haunt 
of fashionable, and even of ignoble vice ; how the smal- 
lest municipal office then contented his ambition, and im- 
proved his finances ; how his condition and his expecta- 
tions were then looked upon as so hoi^eless as to be even 
beneath derision and contempt; and how, in 1854, that 
same Louis Napoleon was received by the Queen of that 
vast empire in her stateliest array ; how he rode along 
the same streets which had once witnessed his poverty 
and abasement, surrounded by the greatest pomp and 
splendor, by the most brilliant equipages, and by all the 
grand and unposiag display which an opulent and powerful 
court could throw around hioi ; and how he then retired 
to be feasted and feted with the utmost magnificence in 
the halls of that palace from whose very portals he would 
formerly have been repulsed with ignomiay ! 

In 1840 ambition once more gained the mastery over 
the prudence and the indiiference of the prince, and he 
made his second ill-advised attemjit to overthrow the 

throne of Louis Phillipe. Whatever might have been 
P 



362 THE AFFAIR OF BOULOGNE. 

the extent of the conspiracy which existed in France 
among the Bonapartists, whatever their reso areas may 
have been, it is apparent that they were at that period 
not sufficiently organized, nor impelled by a spirit prop- 
erly guided, to secure the remotest prospect of success. 
In August of 1840, ISTapoleon embarked on board the 
Edinburg Castle^ and landed at Boulogne, with a small 
number of associates as reckless, as desperate, and as 
drunhen as himself. Upon their arrival they attempted 
to create a ferment in favor of the prince ; but all to no 
purpose.* Durmg the excitement which ensued while 
Napoleon and his friends were attempting to seduce the 
garrison of Boulogne from theii* allegiance, he had an al- 
tercation mth the commandant in which he discharged 
his pistol with the intention of shootmg him, but missed 
his aim and killed a private soldier standing quietly in his 
ranks. This was the extent of his achievements on this 
occasion. In a very short time the prince was again ar- 

* "The captain of the steamer told us that the rebels had drunk 
sixteen dozen bottles of wine during their passage from London to 
Wimereux, without counting brandy and liqueurs. The soldiers 
of the 42nd, who were present at the contest, and whom we have 
interrogated, have assured us that the rebels were almost all tipsy." 
(Proces de N. L. Bonaparte, &c., 1 vol. published by Paguerre, 
1840, p. 28.) At length the prefect of Boulogne, M. Launay-Le- 
prevot, says in addition, in his private report : — " L. Bonaparte 
and suite seem to have landed this morning at about three or four 
o'clock, at a distance of two miles and a half from the city of 
Boulogne. During their march towards the town, they stopped 
to drink." (JProces, &c., p. V.) It must be owned that those are 
not very temperate emperor's nephews. Wine and gold — such 
constitute all the genius of the modern Augustus. We have not 
forgotten the libation in the plain of Satory, where the troops 
were for the first time made to call out; Vive I'Empereur ! " 



THE PRINCE IMPRISONED AT HAM. 363 

rested ; the live eagle which he had brought with tim as 
an emblem of his anticipated success, was decapitated ; 
Ms companions still reeling with the effects of their de- 
bauch, were easily put m durance ; and this absurd ex- 
pedition ended in disappointment and disgrace. 

The prince though again guilty of treason, and though 
he did not even then suffer the penalty which treason de- 
serves, did not escape on such easy terms as before. He 
was conveyed as a prisoner to the fortress of Ham ; and 
his detention there continued for the period of six 
years. His sentence was that of imprisonment for life ; 
and it was doubtless the intention of Louis Phillipe to 
place the restless representative of the Napoleonic dy- 
nasty forever beyond the power of again disturbing the 
security and perpetuity of his throne. It is an evidence 
of the supeiiority of mmd possessed by this remarkable 
man, that though a voluptuary when at liberty, when 
confined withm a prison he was capable of, and disposed 
to, turn his thoughts to dignified subjects of inquiry, and 
to engage in continuous and careful investigations into 
the most important questions of pohtical economy, and 
the wealth and prosperity of nations. In 1842 he pub- 
lished his work entitled, Analysis of the Questions of 
Sugars ; which evinced a deep acquaintance with the 
subject, and a great degree of facility as a writer. This 
work was followed shortly afterward by another, his He- 
flections on Recruiting the Army ; which displayed an 
equal degree of research and reflection upon a widely 
diflerent, but equally important department of the public 
welfare. 

In pursuits such as these, six years of captivity 



364 HE RESOLVES TO ESCAPE. 

passed away. The prisoner of Ham neither forgot the 
former impulses of his ambition, nor was he forgotten by 
the great and powerful party in France of whom he was 
the representative. On the 2d of May, 1847, he deter- 
mined to execute his project of escape. The various 
events which were occurring under the government of 
Louis Phillipe, clearly indicated to the sagacious mind of 
Louis Napoleon, that a crisis was approaching, and that 
he should be prepared to take advantage of it. 

The plan of escape projected by the captive was ad- 
mirably adapted to succeed. "Workmen were then pass- 
ing to and fro through the castle, completing some re- 
pairs which had been commenced near the apartment oc- 
cupied by Louis N"apoleon. At the time appointed, he 
dressed himself in the garb of one of the workmen, throw- 
ing a common blouse over the rest of his attire. He 
shaved off his moustaches. A long pipe adorned his 
mouth, and a heavy board was laid ready to be elevated 
to his shoulder in order to complete the deception. 
There were two relics which the prince valued infinitely, 
which he was loth to leave behind him ; and yet their 
presence on his person, in case he should afterward be 
searched, would inevitably condemn him. These rehcs 
were so highly prized that for many years Louis Napoleon 
had uniformly carried them in his bosom. One of them 
was a letter of his mother filled with expressions of ten- 
derness ; and it was the last which he had received fi-om 
Her previous to her death. The other was a letter from 
the Emj^eror Napoleon to Hortense, in which he spoke 
of her son in the following terms : " I hope he will grow 
up and make himself worthy of the destiny which awaits 



HE IS ELECTED A REPRESENTATIVE. 365 

hun." At length, after pondering for some time what 
he should do with these precious mementoes, he deter- 
mined to risk the danger of their retention. They are 
prized until the present hour by their fortunate possessor, 
as his richest and most invaluable treasures. 

Fortune favored the prisoner, and under his strange 
disguise, he escaped the guards of the castle. He first 
fled to Brussels, thence to Ostend, and afterward to Eng- 
land. The discontent which existed in France against 
the government of Louis Phillipe increased, and fixially 
ended in the sudden and mysterious revolution which 
precipitated him from the throne. Previous to this event, 
the friends of Louis Napoleon among the French had 
not been idle. Five departments voted to admit him to 
citizenship. He pubhshed a manifesto in which he in- 
genously acknowledged his attachment to France, and 
his honorable ambition to render himself in some promi- 
nent way useful to her interests. " My heart tells me," 
said he, " that I shall be worthy of the confidence of the 
nation." The dissatisfaction of the people with their 
rulers increased ; the j)ot-house pohticians had at that 
time assumed considerable importance; and their vio- 
lence had rendered their influence in the state both de- 
cisive and dangerous. On the fall of Louis Philhpe, 
Louis Napoleon hastened to Paris ; but the provisional 
government, with the imbecile and visionary Lamartine 
at its head, informed the prince that his presence in the 
capital embarrassed the new government which then be- 
gan to rule in France, and requested him to withdraw. 
He did so; but he was soon elected a deputy to the 
chambers, and returned to occupy the post thus assigned 



366 HE IS ELECTED PRESIDENT. 

him by the people. In this position he was not indiffer- 
ent to the advancement of his personal interests, and to 
the accomplishment of those more ambitious hopes which 
had so long and so powerftilly animated hun. 

Lamartine retired from his position as head of the 
provisional government, after having won for himself the 
contempt and pity of every intelligent man in France, 
A new president was about to be elected. Now was the- 
great turning pomt in the destiny of the heir of the 
Bonaparte dynasty ; and his confederates and partisans, 
fully conscious of the importance of the crisis, were de- 
termined to improve it. Their exertions were unremit- 
ting throughout France, to secure the election of Louis 
Napoleon to the presidency. The utmost use was made 
of the immense and undying popularity of the great ISTa- 
poleon, among all classes of the French people, in order 
to excite their sympathy, and to win their votes for his 
representative. France was filled with innumerable busts, 
with countless portraits, and with every possible me- 
mento of the illustrious Corsican. These exertions and 
expedients succeeded. Louis Napoleon was elected 
president of France, by the voices of seven millions of 
voters. Louis Phillipe may with truth be said to have 
ensured his o^vn ruin, and the elevation of the rival dy- 
nasty, by admitting the remains of the illustrious sleeper 
of St. Helena to a last resting place on the banks of the 
Seme which he loved so well, and where he had so ar- 
dently desired to rest. From the hour that the conqueror 
of Austerhtz entered beneath the subHme dome of the 
Invalides^ the knell of the house of Orleans struck fur- 
ever ; then* future downfall became inevitable ; and thtt 



HIS TALENTS AS A RULER. 36 

accession of a Bonaparte to the throne was an irresistil)le 
necessity ! 

Having thus attained the first step of his ambitious as- 
cent, and having realized the apparently fabulous dream 
of his youth, and of his manhood, Tjoviis Napoleon began 
to govern France with an unexpected degree of intelli- 
gence, sagacity, firmness, and popularity. All men were 
astounded at the sudden display of these high and rare 
quahties which he made. From the very day of his ac- 
cession to his supreme oflSce, he commenced to win for 
himself the reputation of being the most able, the most 
wise, the most successful ruler among the whole herd 
of European sovereigns ; and it seemed almost hke a fan- 
ciful dream of political romance, or a historical Utopia, 
that the once dissipated and debauched adventurer who 
had been the familiar inmate of every haunt of Hcentious- 
ness in New York and London, should so completely 
have disrobed himself of his former ignoble qualities, that 
he should have suddenly assumed the characteristics of 
the wisest and noblest of the race ; and that he should 
have commenced a life utterly at variance, and indeed 
incongruous, with all that had preceded. France began 
to flourish beneath his vigorous and beneficent sway, as 
she had never flourished before. Public confidence was 
restored. Commerce and manufactures prospered. In- 
ternal faction was broken or at least became impotent 
and silent. The nation very soon reached a degree of 
prosperity such as it had never experienced, even under 
the gigantic scepter of the elder Napoleon. 

There was but one impediment in the way of the ion 
limited progress o*. France toward national triumph and 



368 CAUSES OF THE COUP D'ETAT. 

success. This impediment was found in the legislative 
body, the Chambers^ which stiU possessed very consid- 
erable power, which enabled its members to embarrass 
the president, to impede his operations, and very essen- 
tially to mould the measures of the government. The 
French people soon discovered that while all the plans of 
Louis NajDoleon was characterized by much wise sagacity 
and benevolent wisdom, he was sorely clogged by the 
jealousy and obstinacy of the Chambers. The French 
people began, while their admiration for, and confidence 
in, the president increased, to conceive a growing con- 
tempt for the Chambers. They themselves wondered 
why the president did not by some sudden coup of ne- 
cessary and salutary violence, rid himself of the useless, 
and even pernicious weight which harrassed and impeded 
him. " They thought that Louis Napoleon would be per- 
fectly justified in taking some such step ; and they were 
prepared to acquiesce in case his opinion and determina- 
tion coincided with their own conviction. In truth, his 
own position was becoming quite untenable. He was 
frequently loaded with the odium of injurious measures, 
for the adoption of which he was not in justice responsi- 
ble ; which he even detested ; and which he had j)ut 
forth his utmost endeavors to defeat. In fact aifairs had 
at length come to such a crisis, that either the French 
Chambers must be suppressed, and the factionists over- 
awed ; or Louis Napoleon must descend in ignominy 
fi-om the high place which he had already proved himself 
so eminently worthy to fiU. 

Such was the train of circumstances which brought on 
the necessity of the celebrated, and sometimes execrated, 



NECESSITY OF THE MEASURE. S69 

eo^fp d^etat of Louis Napoleon. Under the circumstances 
of the case, it was a useful, an excusable, even an indis- 
pensable, and an unavoidable exj^edient. It saved France 
already so often and so sadly torn by internal strife and 
faction, by the ruinous hostility of parties, and by the 
frequent change of its forms of government, from the 
deadly fangs of anarchists, and political desperadoes ; 
and gave it the inestimable blessings of a settled, perma- 
nent and ^^gorous administration of affairs. That some 
blood must needs be shed in accomplishing this very 
great and important lesult, was to be expected. That a 
very considerable number of raving and selfish fanatics, 
whose interests and influence were ruined by the triumph 
of the president, would become frantic hi his denuncia- 
tion, was according to the natui'al course of things. That 
even a very few mnocent persons might be made to suf- 
fer by the casualties incident to the revolution, might also 
be possible. But that these minor evils were as nothing 
compared to the vast amount of good which a coup dPetat 
would effect, was unquestionable. The desperate diseases 
of the state, had evidently rendered the use of th§ most 
desperate remedies quite*indispensable ; and no wise man 
would blame Louis Napoleon, if he yielded to the existing 
necessity, and employed such remedies in case his subse- 
quent treatment of the patient was judicious, benevolent 
and beneficial. 

Yielding to considerations such as these, Louis Napo- 
leon determined to accomplish his celebrated coup dPetat^ 
which took place on the 2d of December, 1851. The 
army was first converted to the convictions and purposes 

of the president. Early on the morning of that day aD 
P* 24 



y^O m(jlDENTS OF THE COUP D'ETAT. 

the most eminent and distinguished opponents of the 
president were arrested while still in their beds. When 
the Chambers met, they were expelled from their haU. 
The streets of Paris were fiUed with thousands of soldiers, 
who maintained peace and dispersed the crowds which 
were disposed to be resistive and riotous. Many were 
shot down by the military. If there were any unjustifia- 
ble acts committed by the agents of Napoleon, it was in 
the severity mth which his troops executed his orders to 
fire into houses which seemed to contain persons hostile 
to the success of the movement. No doubt, many per- 
sons were injured, and some slain, who were totally inno- 
cent of any intention to participate in the events of the 
day. But even this misfortune, and this injustice, were 
evils inseperably connected with the accomplishment of 
the useful and desirable purposes of the movement. A 
few days o± terror and uncertainty were the necessary 
prelude to the long era of national security, prosperity 
and happiness, which has since ensued, as the result of the 
establishment of the power of Louis Napoleon on a per- 
manent basis. 

Three days sufiiced to accomplish the difficult task of 
establishing the throne of Louis ]Sraj)oleon throughout 
France. When the agitation subsided, some incidents 
which had occurred called forth the regret of the nation. 
The imprudence of the military in the execution of their 
orders was the principal cause of this feeling. Thus lor 
instance, M. JoUevard, a distinguished landscape painter 
was shot dead while quietly pursuing his artistic labors 
in his lodgings ; and the windows of the houses near him 
were all broken by the fusillades of the troops.* M 

• See "London Times." of December 13th, 1851. 



NECESSARY LOSS OF LIFE. sll 

Biandus, another distingiiislied Parisian, very narrowly 
escaped death ; and a servant of his was shot dead at his 
side, while standing m the private apartment of his mas- 
ter. Multitudes of dwellings were penetrated by balls 
in every direction ; and for the time bemg, the lives of 
their inmates were insecure. One of the most active 
agents of Louis Napoleon on this occasion, himself admits, 
that "all obstacles were removed by merely running 
through them, and those who defended them were passed 
to the sword."* The public organ of the prince itself ad- 
mitted that " his troops had not spared one single insur- 
gent."f And yet the inhabitants of Paris had been pub- 
licly forewarned of the necessity of their avoiding the 
public streets during the progress of the movement ; and 
if they chose to incur the risk of the dangers which im- 
pended, they were themselves to blame. On the 2d of 
December, Maupas, the prefect of poHce published a proc- 
lamation in which the events which were about to occur 
were predicted ; and every one was forewarned to avoid 
them. Said he : "Do not go on the Boulevards, for any 
gathering together of the people will be dispersed by force 
of arms, and without previous summons.''^ If, therefore, 
in the face of premonition so public and so clear as this, a 
portion of the population of Paris persisted in traversing 
the streets, and if another portion of them obstinately 
gi-atified their curiosity by crowding the windows of sus- 

* Report of General Magnare on the affray of December, Moni- 

teur, December 9th, 1851. 

\ Fatrie, of December 6, 1851. 

:|;See P. Mager, Histoire due 2 Decembre, page 155. Also Mand- 
nit, Revolution Militaire, <Sn., p. 248. 



872 SUBMISSION THROUGHOUT PRANCE. 

pected houses ; and if, as a consequence, accidents and iH' 
juries ensued, the hero of the cowp d'etat could scarcely 
be blamed, when the ends to be accomplished were in 
general so beneficial to the public welfare. 

But while Paris, taken by surprise, and adroitly bound 
hand and foot, submitted with scarcely any opposition to 
the will of the usurper, the rest of France was not so amia- 
ble, so compUant, or so incapable of resistance. In Mar- 
seilles and the adjoming province, the news of the coup 
d'etat in Paris excited considerable indignation. The 
streets were paraded by hostile and indignant multitudes, 
who uttered the ancient war-cry of A has le tyran ! A 
has le Dictateur ! Vive la Repuhlique ! The people rose 
in the Basses- Alps, and in the Van, determined to resist 
and to dethrone the new Robespiere, who had thus 
grasped the reins of empire, and trodden under his feet 
the liberties of France. But the whole ai'my had been 
bought over by Louis ISTapoleon, and was the subservient 
instrument of his will. He sent a body of troops into the 
disaifected provinces and cities, who confronted the nu- 
merous bands of insurgents, fiercely attacked them, and 
put to the sword all who were taken with arms in their 
hands. The insurrections were thus put down, wherever 
they occurred throughout France. At Avignon, at Lisle, 
at Cavaillon, at St. Etienne, at Nievers, desperate con- 
flicts occurred between the insurgents or patriots and the 
military ; and in every case, order and submission were 
secured by the wholesale massacre of all who refused to 
yield.* After a few days of commotion and bloodshed, 

* Constitutionel of December 16th, 1851. Patrie of the 19th of 
December. Also, Report of General d'4.ntist, 7th of December 



LOUIS NAPOLEON'S CONFEDERATES. JJ73 

the ^'hole of France became tranquil, and submitted to 
the necessity of obeying the new and irresistible power 
which had arisen in the state. But that submission, m 
most cases volimtary, yet in a few instances forced, was 
not accompanied by apprehensions of the future ; for the 
wisdom, prudence and sagacity which had already been so 
eminently displayed, by the new president, had won the 
"confidence of the nation, both in his abilities, and also in 
his attachment to the interests, the glory and the pros- 
perity of France.* 

The greatest dissatisfaction which existed among the 
French people against Louis Napoleon, was in reference 
to the agents whom he had chosen, as his most trusted 
advisers, and as the most active ministers of his purposes. 
The most prominent and the most odious of all these, 
"was Marshal de St. Arnaud. This man had spent a tur- 
bulent, dissolute, and disgraceful life. At an early age he 
had espoused the military profession ; but he had been 
expelled from the Gardes du corps for misconduct ; and 
was even fortunate that he then escaped without severer 
punishment. Pie was next admitted as a sous-lieutenan( 

* " They write from Aups, 12th of December : The rebels fled 
across the fields, and the one hundred horsemen who were joined 
with the infantry, pursued them, and made a great slaugutee of 
THEM. On the roads to Lorgues, Salerne, Tourtour, and Aups, the 
bodies of many insurgents were found. The column shot axmost 
ALL THE REBELS IT MET WITH. The troops Were at a short distance 
from Aups, when they perceived a man on horseback, who, on see- 
ing them, started off at full gallup. The horsemen rushed after 
him, overtook hira, and discovered him to be an estafet, who was 
goitg to announce their M'rival to the insurgents. To take him and 
SHOCT HIM, occupied but an instant." {Mouiteur, 17th December.) 



074 MARSHAL ST. ARNAUD. 

in the legion of Corriica; and from this body he was also 
soon removed, or turned out for a similar cause. In the 
year 1824, his situation had become very dependent and 
abandoned. He had descended to the character of a 
penniless and dissolute adventurer. He was known as 
such, in London, in Vienna, and in other capitals of Eu- 
rope. In 1827, he was imprisoned for debt in St. Pelagic, 
from which he was at length discharged, only in conse- 
quence of the charity of some of his acquaintances. In 
1831, he again obtained admission into the army, and 
shortly afterward, became aide-de-camp to General 
JBugeaud. 

But the conduct of St. Arnaud rendered him repulsive 
even to the army and to his brother officers. In 1837, he 
served in Algeria, in the foreign legion ; and there, for the 
first time, he displayed the only redeeming trait of his 
character — the possession of very considerable military 
talents. From this period his promotion became rapid. 
In 1840 he was made chief de bataillon ; in 1844, colonel 
and commandant of the subdi^dsion of Orleansville ; in 
1 847, general of brigade ; then marshal of France.* 

Meanwhile St, Arnaud lived most extravagantly, at 
the rate of fifty thousand francs per year. As his fortunes 
improved his dissoluteness of life increased ; and the army 

* " Leroy, alias de St. Arnaud, no doubt passed off his mischan- 
ces as an officer, for political disfavors; for, in February, 1831, he 
obtained his re-entry into the service with the rank of sub-lieut- 
enant, his then constant military ne phis ultra. He was placed in 
the •34th regiment of the line. He was thirty years of age, and 
al':hough he had spent two or three years within the walls of a 
prison, he accepted the post of aide-de-camp to General Bugeaud, 



HIS HISTORY. 375 

m Algeria, not given to excessive virtue or rigor, were 
scandalized at his excesses. On the termination of that 
war, St. Arnaud returned to France, and became the in- 
timate friend and associate of Louis Napoleon. The lat- 
ter, after his elevation to the presidency, promoted St. 
Arnaud to the post of minister of war. When Napoleon 
meditated the achievement of his great coup dPetat^ he 
selected St. Arnaud as his claief confidant ; and concerted 
with hnn the measures which were to be adopted, to ac- 
complish the intended result. Louis Napoleon could not 
have chosen a more capable, a more suitable, or a more 
unscrupulous assistant. St. Arnaud highly distinguished 
himself by the sagacity with which his measures were 
adopted, and by the promiDtitude, energy, and precision 
with which they were executed. He thus very materi- 
ally contributed to the success of the movement ; and 
placed his master under very great obUgations to him, 
for the services rendered on this critical occasion. Nor 
were those services ever forgotten. The grateful emperor 
heaped honors, titles, and untold wealth upon his efficient 
favorite, and elevated him to the highest pinnacle of pros- 
perity and splendor. And last of all, when the war in 

when the latter was not ashamed to become the keeper of Madame 
de Berry. In point of truth, the ex-garde du corps of Louis XVlll 
was little better, at Blaye, than a spy upon the daughter-in-law ol 
Charles X. ! The Orleanist Avriters of the Bulletin Francais (M 
d'Haussonville and M. Thomas) were unwilling to utter the wort 
spy, out of deference to M. Bugeaud, the illustrious sword of the 
Orleanists; but they say that their general-gaoler "considered M. 
St. Arnaud proper to fulfil at Blaj^e some subaltern offices which 
everybody would not have undertaken." See liCS Trois Marjchaux, 
page 6. 



376 HIS HONORS AND REWARDS. 

tlie East demanded the presence of a capable and energetic 
commander to lead the armies of the Allies against the 
colossal forces and fortresses of the czar of Russia, so 
honorable and so eminent a position was not considered 
too great a reward for the distinguished talents and ser- 
vices of St. Aruaud. He died in the Crimea, just before 
the great conflict under the walls of Sevastopol began, 
and it is not improbable, that, had he survived, his des- 
perate courage and irresistible energy would have very 
considerably shortened the struggle which took place for 
the mastery of that important position. 

While such were the character and career of the prin- 
ciple confederate of Louis Napoleon in effecting his coitp 
d''etat, the rest of them were not unexceptionable. Ve- 
ron had been condemned to disgorge one million four 
hundred thousand fi-ancs which he had fraudently obtained 
fi-om his creditors. Vieyra had been convicted as a 
fi-audulent vendor, and had kept a house of prostitution 
in Paris. Sercey had been sentenced to five years im- 
prisonment for swindling. Magnan had sold property 
which did not belong to him, and had appropriated the 
proceeds.* The fact that these men, and such as these, 
had taken a prominent part in the accomphshment of the 
coup dPetat^ gave to that movement the appearance of the 
reproach of having been the work of abandoned, desper- 
ate and ruined men ; who, like Cataline of old, aimed to 
redeem their own fortunes by the downfall of the repub- 
lic, and by the elevation to power of one, and he the 
most desperate of their own notorious associates, 

* See Schoelcher: "Alliance with the Men of the coup d'etat.*' 
London, 1854. 



LOUIS NAPOLEON AS EMPEROR. 377 

Thus Louis Napoleon became emperor of the French. 
Seated on one of the most brilliant thrones in Euroi)e, he 
has since swayed the perilous rod of empire with extra-- 
ordinary prudence, sagacity and ability. He has in truth 
proved himself not unworthy of the exalted hopes which, 
through all the varied vicissitudes of his life, he ever 
tenaciously entertained ; and not unworthy even of the 
splendid realization which those hopes have at last se- 
cured. Five years of administrative care, energy and 
vigilance on his part have rendered France more flour- 
ishing than she has even been at any previous period. 
He has surrounded his throne with powerful guarantees 
of future permanency, by winning the confidence of the 
nation in his ability and patriotism. He has even added 
to the other sj^lendors which now encii'cle his name, those 
which are reflected from the lurid battle-field, and fi-om 
the gory triumphs of war. He hated the Czar Nicholas, 
because the Russian potentate had treated his accession 
to empire, with poorly- disguised contempt. To be avenged 
for this inexcusable and inexpiable insult, he sent an am- 
bassador to the Sublime Porte, making such demands on 
behalf of the Latin or Romish christians in Jerusalem, in 
reference to the custody of the holy places there, which 
he knew Nicholas, as the protector of the Greek chris- 
tians in' that city, would oppose, and resent. The war 
in the east was the ultunate result of that movement on 
the part of the Emjieror Louis Napoleon. War being 
declared by Russia against the sultan, the French em- 
peror became his ally and adroitly induced England, and 
the other western powers, to assist him in the task of 
humbling the czar, under the specious pretext of main 



378 THE IMPERIAL MARRIAGE. 

tainuig the balance of power in the east. Thus Louis 
Napoleon, to gratify his personal hostility against Nicho- 
las, set all Europe in a blaze ; and he has amply avenged 
himself on his foe. Nicholas, overcome by the cares 
and the mortifications which attended this memorable 
conflict, sank into his grave, and now sleeps beyond the 
reach of war's loud tumult ; while on the other hand, 
Louis Napoleon has earned for himself the reputation of 
having triumphed over the most powerful, determined 
and dangerous despot of modern times. 

But gentler and brighter memories than these clustei 
aroimd the recent career of Louis Napoleon. In January 
1853, he led to the altar, the fair Eugenie de Montijo, 
the countess and duchess of Teba. This young lady be- 
longed to the most distinguished family among the Span- 
ish grandees of the first class. Her mother, the countess 
of Montijo had been for many years at the head of the 
haul ton of Madrid. The family usually spent their sum- 
mers at Biarritz, a watering place in the south of France ; 
and sometimes, a few months of winter they passed in the 
French capital. It was thus that Louis Napoleon be- 
came acquainted with the accomplished and fair countess 
of Teba. She was then aged twenty -six years, and was 
in the blooming prime of her radiant southern loveliness. 
The heart of the emperor soon felt the power of her peei'- 
less charms. It is also said that the attachment was 
mutual. 

When Napoleon first revealed his intended marriage to 
his council of ministers, they resigned in a body. The 
princess Matilda remonstrated. But opposition and re- 
monstrance only rendered the emperor more resolute in 



QUALITIES OF THE EMPRESS. 379 

his determiBation. He had soiigbt the hand of several 
princesses of royal houses in Europe, and had sought them 
La vain. He resolved that he would be repulsed and mor- 
tified no more. He loved the graceful and accomplished 
countess, and he vs^ould marry her. Nor has she proved 
herself unworthy of the exalted eminence to which pro- 
pitious fortune has elevated her. Before the marriage 
was celebrated, it was said that Napoleon's marked atten- 
tions to her excited the apprehensions of her friends for 
the safety of her reputation ; and before she herself con- 
sented to become the bride of the monarch of France she 
expressly stipulated that Mrs. Howard, the former mis- 
tress of Napoleon during many years of good and evil 
fortune, should be banished permanently from France. 
Seated now upon the throne of Maria Antoinette, of Jose- 
phine, and of Maria Louisa — a throne hung aromid with 
so many splendid and rnournful memories and associations 
— the Empress Eugenia gracefully and meekly bears her 
exalted state ; and day by day wins more completely the 
admiration, the applause, and even the affection of the 
nation. 

And thus, the triumphant drama of Napoleon's career 
has steadily progressed. He has been welcomed as a visi- 
tor by the monarch of England, in the stately halls of the 
Stuarts and the Plantaganets, and has been received as an 
honored guest by the greatest capital of the world, with 
the gift of tlie freedom of the city, with joyous salvos of 
artillery, with the acclamations of countless multitudes, 
with flying banners, with military arrays, and Tvith all the 
pomp and splendor of the ancient nobility and chivalry of 
England. And then, Biittannia's Queen and her consort. 



880 A].LIAIilCE BETWEEN ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 

return the compliment. They visit their recent guest in 
the land of his birth, and of his triumph. At their coming 
the gay and briUiant Paris puts on her most resplendent 
attire to welcome them. Spectacles of beauty, of 
luxury, and of joy, such as the world had never seen be- 
foi'e, surrounded and delighted the strangers, on every 
side. The most memorable scenes of festivity exhibited 
during the empire of the great Napoleon, were all thrown 
into the shade by those which were then witnessed ; a.nd 
strangest of all, the hereditary and once implacable ene- 
mies of Pondicherry, of Salamanca, and of Waterloo, 
exhibited themselves to the world in the amazing atti- 
tude of friends, united in a close and an afiectionate em- 
brace ! And while astonished Europe looks and wonders 
at the strange and improbable events which have come to 
pass in these latter days, iN'apoleon retires to the secrecy 
of his cabinet, and there laughs at the success with which 
he has wheedled and won the stern natives of Britain ; 
how he has induced them to honor him in their capital ; 
how he has beguiled their monarch to adulate him in his 
own more sumptuous palace ; and has given him an op- 
portunity of displaying the superiority of Paris and 
France, to London and England ; how he has thrown upon 
his alhes the burden and the expense of a dangerous 
war, in the issue of which they have not the least particle 
of real interest ; how he has laid the hated Nicholas in 
his grave ; how he makes the ancient monarchies of Aus- 
tria, Prussia and Sardinia subservient t© his crafty policy ; 
and how, since the death of the Russian Czar, he has ren- 
dered himself the most remarkable, the most successful, 
and the most powerful man, of the present time I 



BIRTH OF THE IMPERIAL PRINCE. 381 

On tlie sixteenth of March, 1856, the long-contiuued 
and ardent hopes of Louis Napoleon, that he might be 
blessed with an heir to his throne M^ere gratified. A son 
was born to him, who received the title of the Prince of 
Algeria. As was the case at the birth of the unfortunate 
King of Rome, forty-five years before, a hundred and one 
discharges of cannon shook the foundations of the capital, 
and announced the happy event to the enraptured popu- 
lation. The empress was considered to be in extreme 
danger for some hours, and she expected that every mo- 
ment would be her last. The son of the former accouch- 
eur of the empress Maria Louisa, Dubois, ofiiciated on this 
occasion ; and the perU of his illustrious patient very con- 
siderably increased his own trepidation and nervousness. 
His father had received ten thousand pounds for his ser- 
vices to the fair daughter of the Hapsburgs. The son, 
more fortunate than his father receives twenty thousand for 
his efi'orts in the service of the more grateful and munificent 
possessor of the French throne. Louis Napoleon himself 
was overcome with emotion. Falhng upon the neck of 
his cousin, the prince Napoleon, the former heir presump- 
tive, he exclaimed, amid a burst of tears: "I am sure 
you will love and protect this child ! " He had given to 
Eugenia on this solemn occasion, that precious reliquary, 
the letters of Napoleon I. and of his mother Hortense, 
which, during his whole life he has carried in his bosom, 
and from which he never parts. It may have exerted no 
inconsiderable influence on the imagination of the em- 
press during the suifermgs of her accouchement. 

To what high hopes, to what glorious destiny, or to 
what sad misfortunes and romantic vicissitudes this last 



382 H^S PROBABLE DESTINY. 

representative of the great Napoleonic dynasty may be 
reserved, are mysteries deeply hidden in the future. But 
it is a circumstance and a coincidence deserving of special 
notice, that no prince born in France as heir-apparent to 
the throne during the last two hundred years, has ever 
ascended the dizzy and dangerous eminence of his inheri- 
tance. Louis XIV. survived both his son, his grandson, 
and several of his great-grand sons ; and was succeeded 
at last by one of the sons of the Duke of Burgundy. 
Louis XV. outlived his own son, and was succeeded by 
his grandson Louis XVI. The unfortunate child of the 
latter, the dauphin, perished miserably as we have seen, 
in the dark and filthy dungeon to which the ferocious and 
blood-thirsty fanatics of the revolution had consigned him. 
The King of Rome, the heir-apparent of a mightier dynas- 
ty, died in reality a states' prisoner at Vienna, the victim 
of the combined intrigues of Metternich and ballet-dan- 
cers. The Duke de Berry, the representative of the re- 
stored race of the Bourbons, was assassinated before he 
reached the purple ; and the Duke de Bordeaux, the son 
of Charles X. and the Count of Paris, are fugitives and 
exiles from the land of their forefathers. Whether the 
Prmce of Algiers who, in his turn now represents the 
hopes of the resuscitated power and splendor of the ISTa- 
poleonic race, shaU be happier and more fortunate than 
preceding princes, time by its slow yet steady flight 
alone can demonstrate. 

But for the present, the birth of this prince is a pro- 
pitious circumstance for the prospects of Louis Napoleon. 
It confirms liis possession of the throne. It establishes a 
great dynasty. It renders that dynasty at once powerful 



THE PEACE OF EUROPE. 383 

in legitimacy, and in the voluntary affections of the French 
nation. And it invests the future fate of France and of 
the N"a;poleons, whatever that fate may be, with a deeper, 
intenser, and more tragical interest during all comhig 
time. 

The Prince of Algiers was born at a propitious mo- 
ment. He may fitly be termed the harbinger of peace to 
a distracted continent. At the period of his birth the 
plenipotentiaries of great and belhgerent powers were 
assembled together, through the skUfuU management of 
Louis Napoleon, in the same capital in which the imperial 
infant first saw the light, in order to lull the fierce and 
bloody genius of war to repose, to bmd him fast with 
chains, which all wise and good men hoped would prove 
eternal, and to diffuse the blessings of peace and concord 
over many afllicted and desolated lauds. The coincidence 
of his birth, and the establishment of a European truce 
may be the happy presage of a more glorious futurity ; 
and this last Memorable Scene in French history may be 
one of the most fortunate and propitious which has oc- 
curred in that vexed land of revolutions and convulsions, 
during the progress of several troubled centuries. Sbice 
the downfall of the great Corsican, the most dangerous 
foe to the repose of Euroj^e has been the aggressive poli- 
cy and the insatiable ambition of the Czar Nicholas of 
Russia. He had resolved to insert the gem of Constanti- 
nople's crown among the brilliant jewels of his own diar 
dem ; and, to make the ancient inheritance of the false 
prophet an appendage to his own stupendous empire. 
Nor would even these mighty aspirations, had they been 
realized, h^e been the probable terminus to his encroach- 



384 LOUIS NAPOLEON'S POLICY. 

ments on the integrity and the rights of Europe and na- 
tions ; and it is impossible to predict where the mighty 
surges of his proud and arrogant ambition would at last 
have been stayed. But the haughty autocrat now sleeps 
in a trance so profound that there is no fear of his wakiag ! 
The silent though stately tomb covers the mouldering 
form once so instinct with fierce and despotic energy^; and 
the sultan no longer trembles on his throne at the ap- 
proach of the Muscovite legions. Nor is it probable that 
any of the successors of Nicholas I. after the severe lesson 
which they have received by the events of the Crimean 
war, will ever again venture to reassert his aggressive 
and oppressive principles, in reference to the prerogatives 
and the territories of neighboring countries. And it is 
biit just to Louis ISTapoleon to say, that he first ventured 
to excite the immediate hostility of the great czar ; that 
he first defied his gigantic power ; that he was the soul 
of the coahtion which dared to meet his iimumerable le- 
gions in the field, and to assail them on the battlements ; 
that he manfully upheld the spirit and energy of the mem- 
bers of that coahtion, when they were about to fail ; that 
he carried on the conflict resolutely till victory had been 
nobly won ; that he, in the appropriate moment of triumjA 
proposed the assembling of plenipotentiaries for the ar- 
rangement of a peace between the belligerents ; that he 
aided these plenipotentiaries in not a few important crises 
in their dehberations, to overcome great difficulties, and 
eventually to harmonize upon equitable terms of settle- 
ment ; and that to him are chiefly due the present humil- 
iation of Russia, the premature decease of the turbulent 
Nicholas, the European concord which at prestint prevails, 



CONCLUSION. 386 

the unequaled prosperity which now adorns the land ovfr 
which he rules, and in some measure the greater glory 
and felicity, which the future may yet reveal to Europe 
and to the world ! 

Even the premature death of this remarkable man: 
would not necessarily undermine the stability or termi- 
nate the duration of the government which he has inau- 
gurated ; for the Council of Regime which he has appoint- 
ed to take charge of the empire during the time which 
might elapse between his death and his son's majority, 
would secure the perpetuity of the empire. In June, 
1857, elections took place throughout France for the 
members of the Corps JOegislatif; and the result of the 
contest showed conclusively that the power of the factions 
hostile to the Imperial government was broken ; and the 
approving voice of the nation clearly indicated that they 
were still content to live beneath the rigid yet satisfactory 

operation of the Second Empire. 

Q 25 

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choly pathos running through his mirth, and even -when his sun shone 
brightly its light seemed often reflected as if only over the rim of a cloud. 

Well may we say, in the words of Tennyson, " Would he could have 
stayed with us." for never could it be more truly recorded of any one — In 
the words of Hamlet characterizing Yorick — that "he was a follow of in- 
finite jest, of most excellent fancy." D. M. Moir. 

THE ILIAD OF HOMEE EENDEEED INTO ENGLISH 
BLANK VEESE. By Edward, Eael of Deeby. From 
the latest London edition, with all the author's last revisions 
and corrections, and with a Biographical Sketch of Lord 
Derby, by E. Shelton Mackenzie, D.C.L. With twelve 
steel engravings from Flaxman's celebrated designs. 2 vols., 
12mo. Cloth, extra, bev. boards, gilt top, $3.50; half calf, gilt, 
marbled edges, $7.00 ; half Turkey morocco, gilt top, $7.00. 
The same. Popular edition. Two vols, in one. 12mo. Cloth, 
extra, $1.50. 

" It must equally be considered a splendid performance ; and for the pres- 
ent we have no hesitation in saying that it is by far the best representation 
of Homer's Iliad in the Englisii language." — London Times. 

"The merits of Lord Derby's translation may be summed up in one word, 
it is eminently attractive; it is instinct with life ; it may be read with fervent 
interest; it is immeasurably nearer than Pope to tlie text of the original. . 
. . . Lord Derby has given a version far more closely allied to the original, 
and superior to any that has yet been attempted in the blank verse of our 
language." — Edinhurg Review. 

THE WOEKS OF FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS. Comprising the Anti' 
quities of the Jews ; a History of the Jewish Wars, and a Life 
of Flavius Josephus, written by himself. Translated from the 
original Greek, by William Whiston, A.M. Together with 
numerous explanatory Notes and seven Dissertations concern- 
ing Jesus Christ, John the Baptist, James the Just, God's com- 
mand to Abraham, etc., with an Introductory Essay by Eev. 
H. Stebbing, D.D. 8vo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, plain 
edges, $3.00; cloth, red, black and gold, gilt edges, $4.50; sheep, 
marbled edges, $3.50 ; Turkey morocco, gilt edges, $8.00. 
This is the largest type one volume edition published. 

tHE ANCIENT HISTOEY OF THE EGYPTIANS, CAETHA- 
GINIANS, ASSYEIANS, BABYLONIANS, MEDES AND 
PEESIANS, GEECIANS AND MACEDONIANS. Including 
a History of the Arts and Sciences of the Ancients. By 
Charles Eollin. With a Life of the Author, by James 
Bell. 2 vols., royal 8vo. Sheep, marbled edges, per set, $6.00k 



PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 



COOKEEY FEOM EXPEEIENCE. A Practical Guide for House- 
keepers in the Preparation of Every-day Meals, containing 
more than One Thousand Domestic Eecipes, mostly tested by 
Personal Experience, with Suggestions for Meals, Lists of 
Meats and Vegetables in Season, etc. By Mrs. Saea T. Paul. 
12mo. Cloth,"extra, black and gold, $1.50. 
Interleaved Edition. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.75. 

THE COMPAEATIVE EDITIOISr OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
Both Versions in One Book. 

The proof readings of our Comparative Edition have been gone 
over by so many competent proof readers, that we believe the text 
is absolutely correct. 

Large 12mo., 700 pp. Cloth, extra, plain edges, $1.50; cloth, 
extra, bevelled boards and carmine edges, $1.75 ; imitation panelled 
calf, yellow edges, $2.00 ; arabesque, gilt edges, $2.50 ; French mo- 
rocco, limp, gilt edges, $4.00 ; Turkey morocco, limp, gilt edges, 
$6.00. 

The Comparative New Testament has been published by Porter & Coates. 
In parallel columns on each page are given the old and new versions of the 
Testament, divided also as far as practicable into comparative verses, so that 
it is almost impossible for the slightest new word to escape the notice of 
either the ordinary reader or the analytical student. It is decidedly the 
best edition yet published of the most interest-exciting literary production 
of the day. No more convenient form for comparison .could be devised 
either for economizing time or labor. Another feature is the foot-notes, 
and there is also given in an appendix the various words and expressions 
preferred by the American members of the- Eevi-sing Commission. The 
work is handsomely printed on excellent paper with clear, legible type. It 
contains nearly 700 pages. 

THE COUNT OF MONTE CEISTO. By Alexandre Dumas. 
Complete in one volume, with two illustrations by George G. 
White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

THE THEEE GUAEDSMEN. By Alexandee Dtmas. Com- 
plete in one volume, with two illustrations by George G. 
White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 
There is a magic influence in his pen, a magnetic attraction in his descrip- 
tions, a fertility in his literary resources which are characteristic of Dumas 
alone, and the seal of the master of light literature is set upon all his works. 
Even when not strictly historical, his romances give an insight into the 
habits and modes of thought and action of the people of the time described, 
which are not oiFered in any other author's productions. 

THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. By Sir Edward Bulwer 
Lytton, Bart. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and 
gold, $1.00. Alta edition, one illustration, 75 cts. 

JANE EYEE. By Charlotte Bronte (Currer Bell). New Li- 
brary Edition. With five illustrations by E. M. Wimperis. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.00. 

SHIELEY. By Charlotte Bronte (Currer Bell). New Library 
Edition. With five illustrations by E. M. WiMPEBls. 12mo. 
Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.00. 



PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 



VILLETTE. By Charlotte BBONTE(Currer Bell). New Library- 
Edition. With five illustrations by E. M. Wimpeeis. 12mo. 
Cloth, extra, black and gold, §1.00. 

THE PROFESSOR, EMMA and POEMS. By Charlotte Bronts 
(Currer Bell). New Library Edition. Witli five illustrations 
by E. M. WiMPERis. r2mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, Sl.OO. 

Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.00; red cloth, paper 
label, gilt top, uncut edges, per set, $5.00 ; half calf, gilt, per set, 
$12.00. The four volumes forming the complete works of Char- 
lotte Bronte (Currer Bell). 

The woudrous power of Currer Bell's stories consists in their fiery insight 
into the human heart, their merciless dissection of passion, and their stern 
analysis of character and motive-. Tlie style of these productions possesses 
incredible force, sometimes almost grim in its bare severity, then relapsing 
into passages of melting pathos— always direct, natural, and effective in its 
unpretending strength. ■ They exhibit the identity which always belongs to 
works of genius by the same author, though without the slightest approach 
to monotony. , The characters portrayed by Currer Bell all have a strongly 
marked individuality. Once brought before the imagination, they haunt 
tiie memory like a strange dream. The sinewy, muscular strength of her 
writings guarantees their permanent duration, and thus far they have lost 
nothing of their intensity of interest since the period of their composition. 

CAPTAIN JACK THE SCOUT; or. The Indian Wars about Old 

Fort Duquesne. An Historical Novel, with copious notes. 

By Charles McKnight. Illustrated with eight engravings. 

12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. 

A work of such rare merit and thrilling interest as to have been repuh- 

lisiied both in England and Germany. This genuine American historical 

woik has been received with extraordinary popular favor, and has "won 

golden opinions from all sorts of people" for its freshness, its forest life, and 

its fidelity to truth. In many instances it even corrects History and uses 

the drapery of fiction .'liraply to enliven and illustrate the fact. 

It is a universal favorite with both sexes, and with all ages and condi- 
tions, and is not only proving a marked and notable success in this countryj 
but has been eagerly taken up abroad and republished in London, England, 
and issued in two volumes in the far-famed " Tauchnetz Edition " of Leipsic, 
Germany. 

ORANGE BLOSSOMS, FRESH AND FADED. By T. S. Arthur. 
Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, .$1.50. 
"Orange Blossoms" contains a number of short stories of society. Like 
all of Mr. Arthur's works, it has a special moi'al purpose, and is especially 
addressed to the young who have just entered the marital experience, whotii 
it pleasantly warns against those social and moral pitfalls into which they 
may almost innocently plunge. 

THE BAR ROOMS AT BRANTLEY; or. The Great Hotel Spec- 
ulation. By T. S. Arthur. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, 
black and gold, $1.50. 

" One of the best temperance stories recently issued." — N. Y. Commercial 
Advertiser. 

"Although it is in the form of a novel, its truthful delineation of charac- 
ters IS such that in every village in the land you meet the broken manhood 
it pictures upon the streets, and look upon sad. tear-ditnrned eyes of wmneQ 
and children. The characters are not overdrawn, but are as truthful as an 
iirtist's pencil could make them." — Inter-Ocean, Chicago. 



10 PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 

EMMA. By Jane Austen. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, 
$1.25. 

MANSFIELD PAEK. By Jane Austen. Illustrated. 12mo. 
Cloth, extra, §1.25. 

PEIDE AND PEEJUDICE; and Northanger Abbey. By Jane 
Austen. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. 

SENSE AND SENSIBILITY; and Persuasion. By Jane Austen. 
Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. 

The four volumes, forming the complete works of Jane Austen, 
in a neat box : Cloth, extra, per set, $5.00 ; red cloth, paper label, 
gilt top, uncut edges, $5.00; half calf, gilt, per set, $12.00. 

"Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is justly proud. In her novels 
she has given us a multitude of characters, all, in a certain sense, common- 
place, all such as we meet every day. Yet they are all as perfectly discrimi- 
nated from each other as if they were the most eccentric of human beings. 
.... And almost all this is done by touches so delicate that they elude 
analysis, that they defy the powers of description, and that we know them 
to exist only by the general effect to which they have contributed." — 3Ia- 
cauiay's Essays. 

AET AT HOME. Containing in one volume House Decoration, . 
by Ehoda and Agnes Garrett; Plea for Art in the House, 
by W. J. Loftie ; Music, by John Hullah ; and Dress, by 
Mrs. Oliphant. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. 

TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS AT EUGBY. By Thomas 
. Hughes. New Edition, large clear type. With 36 illustra- 
tions after Caldecott and others. 12mo., 400 pp. Cloth, extra, 
black and gold, $1.25 ; half calf, gilt, $2.75, 
Alta Edition. One illustration, 75 cents. 

"It is difficult to estimate the amount of good which may be done by 
•Tom Brown's School Days.' It gives, in the main, a most faithful and 
interesting picture of our public schools, the most English institutions of 
England, and which educate the best and most powerful elements in our 
upper classes. But it is more than this; it is an attempt, a very noble and 
successful attempt, to Christianize the society of our youth, through the 
only practicable channel — hearty and brotherly sympathy with their feel- 
ings; a boob, in short, which a father might well wish to see in the hands 
of his son." — London Times. 

TOM BROWN AT OXFORD. By Thomas Hughes. Illustrated. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50; half calf, gilt, $3.00. 

*' Fairly entitled to the rank and dignity of an English classic. Plot, style 
and truthfulness are of the soundest British character. Racy, idiomatic, 
jiirror-Iike, always interesting, suggesting thought on the knottiest social 
and religious questions, now deeply moving by its unconscious pathos, and 
anon inspiring uproarious laughter, it is a work the world will not willingly 
let die." — N. Y. Christian Advocate. 



PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 11 



SENSIBLE ETIQUETTE OF THE BEST SOCIETY. By Mrs. 
H. O. Waed. Customs, manners, morals, and home culture, 
with suggestions how to word notes and letters of invitations, 
acceptances, and regrets, and general instructions as to calls, 
rules for watering places, lunches, kettle drums, dinners, re- 
ceptions, weddings, parties, dress, toilet and juanners, saluta- 
tions, introductions, social reforms, etc., etc. Bound in cloth, 
with gilt edge, and sent by mail, postage paid, on receipt of 
$2.00. 

LADIES' AND GENTLEMEN'S ETIQUETTE: A Complete 
Manual of the Manners and Dress of American Society. Cor- 
taining forms of Letters, Invitations, Acceptances, and Eegrets. 
With a copious index. By E. B. Dufpey. 12mo. Cloth, 
extra, black and gold, $1.50. 

"It is peculiarly an American book, especiiilly adapted to onr people, and 
its greatest beauty is found In the fact that in every line and precept it in- 
culcates the principles of true politeness, instead of those formal rules that 
serve only to gild the surface without affecting the substance. It is admir- 
ably written, the style being clear, terse, and forcible." — St. Louis Kmes. 

THE UNDERGROUND CITY; or. The Child of the Cavern. 
By Jules Verne. Translated from the French by W. H. 
Kingston. Vf ith 43 illustrations. Standard Edition. 12mo. 
Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. 

AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS. By Jules Veene. 
Translated bv Geo. M. Towle. With 12 full-page illustrations. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

AT THE NORTH POLE; or. The Voyages and Adventures of 
Captain Hatteras. By Jules Verne. With 130 illustrations 
by Riou. Standard Edition. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and 
gold, $1.25. 

THE DESERT OF ICE ; or. The Further Adventures of Captain 
Hatteras. By JuLES Verne. With 126 illustrations by Riou. 
Standard Edition. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

TWENTY THOUSAND -LEAGUES UNDER THE SEAS; or, 

The Marvellous and Exciting Adventures of Pierre Aronnax, 

Conseil his servant, and Ned Land, a Canadian Harpooner. By 

- Jules Verne. Standard Edition. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, 

extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

THE WRECK OF THE CHANCELLOR, Diary of J. R. Kazallon, 
Passenger, and Martin Paz. By Jules Verne. Translated 
from the French by Ellen Frewee. With 10 illustrations. 
Standard Edition. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, .$1.25. 
Jules Verne is so well known that the mere announcement of anything 
from his pen is sniBcient to create a demand for it. One of his chief merits 
is the wonderful art with which he lays under contribution every branch of 
science and natural history, while he vividly describes with minute exact- 
ness all parts of the world and its inhabitants. 



12 PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 

THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS; or, Mirth and Marvels. By 
EiCHAED Haeeis Baeham (Thomas Ingoldsby, Esq.). New 
edition, printed from entirely new stereotype plates. Illus 
trated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50; half calf, 
gilt, marbled edges, $3.00. 

" Of his poetical powers it is not too much to say that, for origiaaUty of 
design and diction, for grand illustration and musical verse, they are not 
surpassed in the English language. The Witches' Frolic is second only to 
Tarn O'Shanter. But why recapitulate the titles of either prose or verse — 
since they have been confessed by every judgment to be singularly rich in 
classic allusion and modern illustration. From the days of Hudibras to our 
time the drollery invested in rhymes has never been so amply or felicitously 
exemplified." — Bentley's Miscellany. 

TEN THOUSAND A YEAE. By Samuel C. Waeeen, author of 
" The Diary of a London Physician." A new edition, care- 
fully revised, with three illustrations by G-eoege G. White. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. 
"Mr. Warren has taken a lasting place among the imaginative writers of 
this period of English history. He possesses, in a remarkable manner, the 
tenderness of heart and vividness of feeling, as well as powers of description, 
which ai-e essential to the delineation of the pathetic, and which, when 
existing in the degree in which he enjoys them, fill his pages with scenes 
which can never be forgotten." — Sir Arcldhald Alison. 

THOMPSON'S POLITICAL ECONOMY; With Especial Eefer- 
ence to the Industrial History of Nations. By Prof. E. E. 
Thompson, of the University of Pennsylvania. 12mo. Cloth, 
extra, $1.50. 

This book possesses an especial interest at the present moment. The 
questions of Free Trade and Protection are before the country more directly 
than at any earlier period of our history. As a rule the works and text- 
books used in our American colleges are either of English origin or teach 
Doctrines of a political economy which, as Walter Bagehot says, was made 
for England. Prof. Thompson belongs to the Nationalist School of Econo- 
mists, to which Alexander Hamilton, Tench Coxe, Henry Clay, Matthew 
Carey, and his greater son, Henry C. Carey, Stephen Colwell, and James 
Abram Garfield were adherents. He believes in that policy of Protection 
to American industry which has had the sanction of every great American 
statesman, not excepting Thomas Jefferson and John C. Calhoun. He makes 
his appeal to history in defence of that policy, showing that wherever a 
weaker or less advanced country has practiced Free Trade with one more 
powerful or richer, the former has lost its ifidustries as well as its money, 
and has become economically dependent on the latter. Those who wish 
to learn what is the real source of Irish poverty and discontent will find it 
here stated fully. 

The method of the book is historical. It is therefore no series of dry and 
abstract reasonings, such as repel readers from books of this cla^s. The 
writer does not ride the a priori nag, and say " this must be so," and " that 
must be conceded." He shows what has been true, and seeks to elicit the 
laws of the science from the experience of the world. The book overflowa 
■with facts told in an interesting manner. 

THE ENGLISH PEOPLE IN ITS THEEE HOMES, and the 
Practical Bearings of general European History. By Edwaed 
A. Feeeman, LL.D., Author of the " Norman Conquest oi 
England." 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.75. 



PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 13 

HANDY ANDY. A Tale of Irish Life. By Samukl Lover. New- 
Library Edition, witli two original illustrations by Geokqe G. 
White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 
"Decidedly the best story of the day, full of frolic, genuine fun, and ex- 
quisite touches of Irish humor." — Dublin Monitor. 

CHAELES O'M ALLEY, The Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 
New Library Edition, with two original illustrations by F. O. 
C. Darley. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, §1.25. 

HAEEY LOEEEQUEE. By Charles Lever. New Library 
Edition, with two original illustrations by Geo. G. White. 
12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25. 

"The intense spirit and frolic of the author's sketches have made him 
one of the most successful writers of the A&y.'"— London Literary Gazette. 

"The author is pre-eminent for his mirth-moving powers, for his acute 
sense of the ridiculous, for the breadth of his humor, and his powers of 
dramatic writing which render his boldest conceptions with the happiest 
facility." — London Athenceum. 

" We hardly know how to convey an adequate notion of the exiiherant 
•whim and drollery by which this writer is characterized. His works are a 
perpetual feast of ga.yety."— John Bull, London. 

POPULAE NATUEAL HISTOEY. By the Eev. J. G. Wood, 
M.A. From entirely new electrotype plates, with five hun- 
dred illustrations by eminent artists. Crown 8vo. Cloth, 
extra, black and gold, $1.75. 
Mr. Wood is an amusing, instructive, and sensible writer — always doing 

good work in a good way — and his work on Natural History is without 

doubt his masterpiece. 

THE ODES OF HOEACE. Translated into English verse, with 
Life and Notes, by Theodore Martin. With a fine portrait 
of Horace. 16mo. Cloth, extra, $1.00. 
Mr. Martin's translation has been commended as preserving — more than 

any other — the spirit and grace of the original. It is the most successful 

attempt ever made to render into English the inimitable odts of Horace. 

The memoir prefixed to the volume is a most chaiming piece of biography. 

GEEEK MYTHOLOGY SYSTEMATIZED. With complete Tables 
based on Hesiod's Theogony ; Tables showing the relation of 
Greek Mythologj' and History, arranged from Grote's History 
of Greece; and Gladstone's' Homeric Tables. With a full 
Index. By S. A. Scull. Profusely illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, 
black and'gold, $1.50. 
"A book which will prove very useful to the student and man of letters, 

and of incalculable benefit as a hand-book." — Republic, Washington. 
"A real want is supplied by this book, which is, in fact, acyclopEedia of 

Greek Mythology, so far as that is possible in a single volume of reasonable 

size and moderate cost." — Eoening Mail, Neiu York. 
"This text-book on Mythology presents the subject in a more practical 

and more attractive style than any other work on the subject with which 

we are familiar, and we feel assured that it will at onci^ take a leading posi' 

tion among books of its class." — The Teacher, Philadelphia. 



14 PORTER & COATES' PUBLICATIONS. 



THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. By Thomas a Kempis. New 
and best edition, from entirely new electrotype plates, single 
column, large, clear type. 18mo. 

Plain Edition, round corners. Cloth, extra, red edges, 50 cents ; 
French morocco, gilt cross, 75 cents ; limp Eussia, inlaid cross, red 
under gold edges, $2.00. 

Red Line Edition, round corners. Cloth, black and gold, red 
edges, 75 cents; cloth, black and gold, gilt edges, $1.00; French 
morocco, red under gold edges, .$1.50 ; limp Eussia, inlaid cross, red 
under gold edges, $2.50; limp Eussia, solid gilt edges, box circuit, 
$3.00 ; limp calf, red under gold edges, $2.50 ; limp calf, solid gilt 
edges, box circuit, $3.00. 

THE WOEDS AND MIND OF JESUS AND FAITHFUL PEOM- 

ISEE. By Eev. J. E. Macduff, D.D., author of " Morning and 

Night Watches." New and best edition, from entirely new 

electrotype plates, single column, large, clear type. 18mo. 

Plain Edition, round corners. Cloth, extra, red edges, 50 cents ; 

French morocco, gilt cross, 75 cents ; limp Eussia, inlaid cross, red 

under gold edges, $2.00. 

Eed Line Edition, round corners. Cloth, black and gold, red 

edges, 75 cents ;• cloth, black and gold, gilt edges, $1.00 ; limp calf 

or Eussia, red under gold edges, $2.50. 

A DICTIONARY OF THE BIBLE. Comprising its Antiquities, 
Biography, Geography, Natural History, and Literature. 
Edited by William Smith, LL.D. Eevised and adapted to 
the present use of Sunday-school Teachers and Bible Students 
by Eev. F. N. and M. A. Peloubet. With eight colored maps 
and over 350 engravings on wood. 8vo. Cloth, extra, black 
and gold, $2.00; sheep, marbled edges, $3.00; half morocco, 
gilt top, $3 50. 
"No similar work in our own or in any other language is for a moment to 
be compared with Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the Bible. The Christian and 
the scholar have a treasure-house on every subject connected with the 
Bihle, full to overflowing, and minute even to the telling of mint and cum- 
min." — London Quarterly Review. 

COMPEEHENSIVE BIOGEAPHICAL DICTIONAEY. Embra- 
cing accounts of the most eminent persons of all ages, nations, 
and professions. By E. A. Thomas. Crown Bvo. Cloth, extra, 
gilt top, $2.50; sheep, marbled edges, $3.00; half morocco, gilt 
top, $3.50; half Eussia, gilt top, $4.50. 
The aim of the publishers in issuing this work is to present in convenient 
size and at moderate price a comprehensive dictionary of biography, em- 
bracing accounts of the most eminent personages in all ages, countries, and 
professions. 

During the last quarter of a century so many important events have been 
enacted, such as the Civil War in America and the Franco-Prussian War of 
1870, and such great advances have been made in the line of invention and 
scientific investigation, that within that period many persons have risen by 
superior merit to conspicuous positions ; and as the plan of this work em- 
braces accounts of the living as well as of the dead, many names are in- 
cluded thai are not to be found in other dictionaries of biography. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



019 602 080 9 



